


Lost

by Flailingkittylover



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Annie, Emotional Sex, F/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Post Time Skip Annie and Armin, Romance, Smut, Top Annie, Try to say how to avoid them but that's all I can do, WARNING: Spoilers for Chapters 100+
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-06-26 00:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15652248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flailingkittylover/pseuds/Flailingkittylover
Summary: They are victims of their circumstances but guilty of their crimes. It’s an experience Annie hoped Armin would never share.Smut and Romance series.Fanfic Cover ArtArtist: The wonderfulErmione





	1. Question

**Author's Note:**

> It's within the italic font where spoilers are, so BEWARE. Luckily, you can avoid it when that font ends and still have an idea of what's going on. Because let's face it, you're here for the good stuff. That's the point of this ;)  
> This took a long while to make and was a struggle trying to keep everyone in character. Enjoy!

 Fire hot enough to smelt iron burns beneath Annie’s skin.

 

His coat emblazoned with the Wings of Freedom lays on the floor and Armin hovers over her, working on his pants while Annie frantically works to get his shirt unbuttoned. She rips off that _stupid_ bolo tie he wears for formalities and opens his shirt, running her hands along trenches of lean and more defined muscles. Armin tosses his pants to the side, leaving him in his undergarments and he leans down, lips brushing over her jawline as she lays on the bed. One of his hands slips up the hem of her prison nightie, traveling up to her chest. He sucks her neck and Annie gasps when his fingers graze her nipple.

 

Armin slides a soft yet stern hand over her mouth. “Don’t be too loud.” He whispers teasingly. “The patrols might hear you.”

 

Annie twists her head to the side, growling out an irritated, “ _Tch”_ under her breath.

 

She’s annoyed and Armin isn’t sure if it’s aimed solely on him or if it’s because he stopped attending to her; either way, he smiles. He hasn’t smiled this genuinely in so long and as quick as his happiness comes, a bitter sadness creeps in. His eyes run over her body, hoping that Annie is at least enjoying herself, but she never made it too easy to tell, especially when her sight keeps fleeing from his.

 

He returns to her neck, closing his lips over bitten, flushed skin, rubbing her nipple between a forefinger and thumb. Annie sucks in a rattled breath, presses her chest against his to touch his hot skin, but she curses; her flimsy prison gown is getting in the way. She shoves Armin away and he complies, leaning back on his legs while she arches her back and shucks off her nightgown.

 

Armin gulps thickly. Time has finally affected her, somehow curving Annie’s hips _more_ , her torso almost the perfect shape of an hourglass, and legs sculpted with muscle presented to him as lither and more mature. She waits for his move, laying still like the perfect marble statue she is, and Armin’s hands tremble, finding that he’s afraid he’ll blemish her flawless design.

 

Annie huffs impatiently and grabs his hands, yanking them forward to press them onto her bare breasts and Armin’s flush burns up past his ears. She’s warm and though her size looks the same, Armin notices her breasts have a slighter greatness in heft. He savors that feeling in his hands, massaging her in slow, strong kneads, a nipple slipping between his fore and middle finger and a sharp sigh shudders out of Annie, morphing into a cry after he pinches her buds. He kisses the peak of her right nipple apologetically, licks down her mounds and sucks at their base, moves to press his knee between her legs and Annie snarls. She’s aggravated, fighting a hot cramp pulsing between her legs, and he’s _not helping_.

 

Annie punches his chest hard enough that he _oomphs_. “Stop going so damn _slow_.” She scolds him through pants.

 

One of her hands grab his head and shoves him into her chest, the other traveling over the small dunes of his abs towards his underwear. Armin winces at her touch, gasps when she cups his half-erect pole through the cloth. He wants her skin to edge him closer, whines and jerks his hips into her hand to tell her so, but Annie denies him with a sharp squeeze that makes him grunt and slam his forehead onto her sternum.

 

“Hurry up or I’ll make you pay.” She threatens huskily into his ear.

 

The soldier shudders more from excitement than fear, but he obeys.

  

Armin laves at her breast, his tongue tracing around her nipple until his mouth encloses it fully, sucking and toying with her between his teeth. Annie bites her lip, moans slipping out as he suckles and massages her, flinching when one of Armin’s hands slips away to run his fingers along the hard plain of her abdomen.

 

They’ve been five years out of practice, yet Armin’s hands and grinding bites on her breasts are as skillful as ever. The blond prisoner weaves a hand through her long side-bangs, wondering if his mastery of the female body is because he’s practiced with another, wonders if she was better than her.

 

God, she wonders how after all this time she _still_ keeps getting into this mess.

* * *

 

  _The cell was too plushy for a mass-murderer, the bed too soft and light too bright and Annie_ knows _Armin was behind it. Whether it was from pity or not, she didn’t care as she indulged in none of it. Her head was bowed, her untied hair dangling down the sides of her face, her vision blocked from the light with leather straps keeping her body wrapped around a chair. Her gag had been pulled for over an hour and question after question was bombarded upon her, but Annie refused to speak._

 

_And after hearing their brief of the last five years, Annie wasn’t sure they needed her to._

 

_“This is a waste of time.” A gruff voice complained. “Your good cop bad cop routine isn’t working.”_

 

_“That isn’t the point of this.” A more level voice objected. “We’re trying to make her more receptive to talking to us and-.”_

 

 _“Right, because hearing that we know of her hometown and that we’ve declared war on each other will_ really _make her want to talk. Face it, Armin. Being straight with her won’t work. She’s a damn clam who won’t budge, not even if you beat it out of her.”_

 

 _“Jean, that’s_ enough. _” Annie detected that Armin had expertly honed lacing his demands with a firm, even voice; he almost sounded like an authority figure._

 

 _Annie heard an exasperated huff hissed through clenched teeth. “Fuck it. Fine. Your honesty is letting you be stupid, but this_ is _your interrogation. Go ahead.”_

 

_“Her not speaking is not proof that any of this or me is stupid.”_

 

 _“But you bleeding your guts out about Marley_ is _.”_

 

_“She has a right to find out through us what’s happened.”_

 

 _“Bull_ shit _she has a right! We’re in this mess because of her and everyone else associated with her! Don’t you remember how this mess started?!”_

 

_There was a somber pause. “All of that doesn’t matter anymore.”_

 

 _“Then what the_ fuck _is the point of this?!” Jean slammed his fists down on the table in time with his expletive. “If you’re just going to fill her in anyway with no intel tradeoff, we might as well leave. This is a waste of time.”_

 

 _This was a waste of_ everyone’s _time. Her daydreaming was more productive than listening to amateur interrogators and every moment she was distracted was a moment lost to find an escape. She could bite her lip now, force a semi-transformation, but she had no idea what waited for her outside. If Armin was here, the Beast and their Captain would not be far away. They would be stupid to not orchestrate a plan that blocked her from running free._

 

_Unless, this was another trick card Armin was playing. Whatever this useless conversation was, Annie didn’t bite and kept her silence._

 

_“Jean…” Annie finally heard Armin say. If she didn’t know better, she would say he sounded hurt. “You know why we have to do this.”_

_The bridge between Annie’s brows pinched right as an acknowledging grunt left Jean. She rolled her eyes up, spotting through her long bangs the goateed man fall into a chair by the table. He sat back in it so the front legs lifted up into the air. “Yeah, I do.” Silence overtook the room again. “Do it already.”_

 

_Annie watched as Armin’s eyelids slid shut. He walked towards the table and unfurled a leather wrapping a top it. The array of metal scalpels and knives shone in the torchlight and Annie had to bite back a snicker. If torture was a route these two were taking, they had to be ready for further disappointment. Her bones had been broken and limbs twisted since childhood. Her nails could be ripped off and she could fall asleep from boredom._

 

_An emotion Annie couldn’t identify passed over Armin’s face as he struggled to choose a tool. He unsheathed a steak knife, his face appearing more comfortable of the size then turned to face her. Sapphire globes meet hers for a sympathetic moment before the fringes of his short, blond hair hid them. Annie wasn’t surprised; Armin was equipped for torture of the mind, not body._

 

_But clearly, Armin had changed. Time chipped away the sweet boy she remembered and left the weary soldier standing before her. He had admitting to killing, admitted to the lives they all took to put Historia on the throne. The blood on hands she remembered being so soft made her stomach knot._

 

_“Get it over with already.” Annie snapped. “If you think you can take it.”_

 

_Jean brought his chair back down onto its four legs, his face stoic and Annie’s apathetic as they looked at each other. He transitioned his gaze to the tools displayed in front of him, then to Armin as he sucks in a breath, looking impatient as Armin’s grip on the knife tightened. Jean stole another glance at Annie, searching her as she did to him and a smirk twitched his lips._

 

_“You’re annoying when you’re right, Armin.” Jean sighed, standing up. He glided his finger along one of the knife's edges. “There might be a way to get her to talk or believe.” Annie almost sneered to egg Jean on, to join in on the fun, until his free hand reached below the table, his hand clenching around what he grabbed, and whipped out a gun stowed away beneath. Annie’s brows quirked up, Armin’s eyes widened, and before either had a moment to react, Jean took aim, “But your way is too slow.”_

 

_An ear-shattering blast ripped across the room._

 

_Annie’s face felt wet, blood and buzzing noises pounded in her ears, but she felt no pain. There was only Armin, falling forward as a web of blood burst out from his back, dropping until his shoulder slammed onto the floor and laid on his side. The knife he held bounced away and his pained shout induced Annie’s pupils to shrink, volcanic plumes fueling the angry flexing of her arms and neck. She tried to pry herself free but habit commanded her to keep her composure, return to being calm, so Annie settled for aiming a scowl at Jean that could summon rifts in stone._

 

 _The goateed soldier battled her icy glare with a fierce glower of his own. “Don’t aim your bitchy face at me. If you weren’t so damn lazy and actually bothered to_ pay attention _, you’d see he’s fine.”_

 

_A groan from where Armin laid grabbed Annie’s attention. Her face darted over to his, concern racing her heart only for it to halt. Armin flopped over onto his stomach, fingers of steam hissing out and up from his wound. Her mouth parted in disbelief as Armin clutched where the bullet breached his shoulder._

 

 _“That wasn’t the plan, Jean.” Armin snapped hoarsely. He coughed and specks of blood rained over the ground below him. “I told you_ I _needed to do it.”_

 

_“But my way got the point across quicker.” Jean dismissed flatly. “She wasn’t talking, you wanted a way to get her to talk, so this was me giving her motivation to start.” Intense brown eyes and flickering grey-blue meet again, burning holes into each other. Jean scoffed. “And by the looks of it, she still respects you. Maybe she’ll listen this time. All she needed was a good scare.”_

 

_Jean sheathed the gun back on his hip and took the roll of knives under his arm, picking up the stray knife speckled with Armin’s blood. “Thanks for being my punching bag, Armin. We’ll be waiting for your report.”_

 

_Confusion and anger roiled within Annie and her barely harnessed rage emboldened her to snarl, “Shooting someone in the back and running away? You really are a coward.”_

 

_Jean stopped. His body twisted around, now approaching her slowly, and as Annie watched, she found that his towering height, broad shoulders, and hair that swept over his eyes had made him almost daunting._

 

 _“Don’t_ you _talk to me about cowardice. Not after everything you’ve done.” Annie managed to retain her scowl through the sins of her past gnawing at her stomach. He turned away and as Jean opened up the door to walk through it, he mumbled quietly, “At least the person you care about can come back.”_

 

_The door slammed shut behind him. Armin struggled to get up, his wound fizzing as he healed. He made a noise of pain, showing Annie that he still wasn’t used to pain._

 

_“You’d think I’d learn my lesson by now…” Armin grumbled. “Blinding myself to the signs.”_

 

_His mumblings were too cryptic for Annie to decipher. She didn’t say a word._

 

_The silence was suffocating and the tightness in her chest didn’t lift, not even when Armin unraveled the ropes keeping her tied to the chair. Her brain sputtered that she should run for the door, swipe Armin off his feet and knock him out, but her body didn’t let her._

 

_“I’m sorry,” Armin started. He sat himself in front of her, pained from his wound and from the sadness wrinkling his forehead. “I figured I’d show you rather than just...tell you. But I guess I thought about it for so long that when the moment came, I locked up.” A noise of frustration huffed out of him. “But I should have anticipated what Jean would do. You’d think after you let someone break your kneecaps and face, they would be sated or have their anger out. I was wrong.”_

 

_His last couple sentences came out in a grumble but Annie couldn’t look at him. His wounds were mending and she kept her eyes on the wall. Only three questions pop into her head._

 

_“Who?” She asked, her voice barren of emotion._

 

_Armin looked at her sadly. “Bertolt.”_

 

_Annie flinched. “How?”_

 

_“We fought him in Shiganshina. I was gravely injured, they captured him, and they...chose me to inherit his power.”_

 

_Her voice became lower and hollower when she continued, “Why?”_

 

_Armin’s chuckled weakly. “Because they did.”_

 

_The gears in Annie’s brain struggled to churn and Armin fidgeted in his spot on the floor. “I’ve seen only glimpses of what Bertolt has seen. It’s not often but...I..I saw where you were raised. I saw the internment camps, the training they put you through. Feeling powerless and caught in a world where we’re prey and lesser-than. It... It’s almost too similar to us.”_

 

_Her fist clenched and Armin resumed, “I know he hated it. He hated every minute being here, what he had to do. I always wondered how you all felt when you broke the first wall, and now…”_

 

_Annie’s brain switched back on and instinct woke up her body. She leapt out of the chair, grabbed Armin by the neck, and slammed him down into the ground. Her hands clenched with such force, Annie felt like she was digging tunnels into his neck. Armin made a choked cough; his lungs were weighted down by her sitting on his chest, her muscled thighs squeezing his sides with the grip of a metal vice. Annie glared down at him while his eyes shut tight._

 

“You. Ate. Him _.” She spat out venomously._

 

 _Armin didn’t fight or argue, only opened an eye to stare apologetically, looking so_ damn sincere, _it made Annie drill her fingers further into his neck, sure to crush his windpipe. He wheezed and hacked, a hand probing at her forearm to fight for release until his grip strength faded away. His hold on her turned gentle, almost consoling._

 

_It only made Annie angrier and vision turn foggy._

 

_Bertolt was a cowardly lapdog and Reiner a manipulative bastard; she had no love for either of them, but a kernel of feeling was there. They were a trio where their tragedies were intertwined. Only they understood and shared her suffering of living under an oppressive regime, of being left with no other choice but to kill thousands so they could return home. They hated it, but for their mission, so their existence in the world could be maintained, blood had to be spilled._

 

_Annie wondered how Bertolt felt when he died, if he maintained gentleness even in death. And how lonely was Reiner without the only friend he had?_

 

_Armin dry coughed and writhed underneath her grip. Hearing him struggle allowed Annie’s focus to return, concluding that his windpipe should have been crushed by now, unless he was healing it while she held him down. She could choke him all night and he would still be breathing. There was no point to this._

 

_The blond prisoner slammed Armin down on the floor again. She hiked up one of her legs off him so she stood at his side, cranked a leg back then launched it forward to strike the middle of Armin’s back. His body rolled away and after three twists, he stopped. He didn’t make a noise or move while Annie smoothed back her long hair, fisting it._

 

 _She was stuck in an emotional twister. She’s angry at herself for losing to Eren, frustrated at Reiner and Bertolt’s failures, saddened her reunion with Father is delayed once more._ _And to her shock, Annie found herself devastated.  This curse was meant to kill Eren and the warriors of Marley alone. It was never meant to drag a kind, young-spirited man like Armin down with it._

_And it was her sadness towards him becoming a shifter that was killing Annie the most._

 

_“I just can’t catch a break today.” Armin strained to laugh. He pushed himself up from the ground and rubbed at the spot where his back was hit. “But I guess it’s what I deserve after everything that’s happened.”_

 

_“Stop acting like you know anything.” Annie quietly snapped._

 

_Armin shook his head. “All of us have done terrible things, Annie. Both sides have. Outside of our circumstances, that might be one of the only bridges to each other that we have.”_

 

_“You know nothing about anything.”_

 

_“...I truly wish I didn’t sometimes.”_

 

 _“Shut_ up.”

 

_“Annie…”_

 

 _“I said, shut_ up! Why _do you keep telling me everything? You put me down here because I’m your enemy and now you’re convincing me more and more that you’re pulling some of your manipulating_ bullshit _. What do even expect me to say? That I feel sorry for you? Boo-hoo you’ve had it bad too? No. You engaged, you’re stuck with the sin, just like us. Accept that and be done with it.”_

 

_“I do.”_

 

 _“Then why do you keep_ bitching _to me_? _Get to your point already._ ”

 

_Armin fiddled with the fabric blown off the shoulder pad of his coat. “All of this was meant to tell you that we know--that I know. All of you have been carrying this on your shoulders the whole time you were with us. This...emptiness. To be desperate for control and stop an end we foresee in a world that doesn’t want us. We’re...the same.”_

 

_“That doesn’t mean that I trust you.”_

 

_“I only ask that you hear me out.”_

 

_Annie’s eyes squinted with suspicion, her arms crossing to show her walls are always up. She allowed him to speak, but he understood the hint that he should make it brief._

 

_“You have one year left so we’re giving you choice. You can join us in the next assault, fight with us, and I will do all I can to clear a path for you to see your father.” Annie raised a skeptical brow as he propositioned another, “Or, you can be given a boat to cross the channel. We have maps where Marylian settlements are. We can give you one so you can evade them and find your father without us.”_

 

_The bewildered prisoner paused before making a mocking snort. “What a stupid offer. You’d risk losing a valuable Titan just so I can see my father? How are you sure I won’t regroup with Marley and fight on their side?”_

 

_Armin was unfazed. “If that’s the case, so be it. We can take care of ourselves. But consider this, how are you so sure Marley will take you back? With only a year left, you will be weakened and the military might want to give the Female Titan to someone else. You might be unsafe with them and better off with us or alone.”_

 

_There was no hesitation in his voice, only calculated confidence, a trait that Annie isn’t used to hearing from Armin._

 

_“It’s unwise to get emotional with your enemies, Arlert.” Annie counters. “Especially if one of your ideas is to ship me away.”_

 

_Armin snorts weakly, his eyes tired and dejected. “There was never a guarantee that you would help us, Annie. You’ll do what you want. You could promise us the world and still run. You’re a survivor and you’ll do what you need to do to get where you want. The Pure Titans are gone and we have boats at the harbor. Outside the walls, the only resistance you’ll find will be in Marley. And after everything...they’ll be watching their borders closely. So, be careful.”_

 

_Through the growing shock shaking her eyes, Annie’s jaw sets. “What kind of shitty test is this?”_

 

_“Not a test. Just an exchange of understanding and an offer for control.” Armin’s head dipped. “I understand what it's like to not have it. And since this is your last year, it’s an offer you deserve to be given.” Annie’s heart thumped fast as Armin’s head rose, his face determined. “Tomorrow I have a briefing with the Commander and Captain. I’ll let you think about it for a while. I’ll come back tonight for your answer.”_

 

_Armin stopped at the door, muttering softly. “I’m sorry you were forced into all of this.”_

 

_Annie was dead silent. He closed the door, leaving her alone in her cell. Chatter rang through her head and her legs ran on autopilot towards the bed. She curled into herself, resting her forehead against her forearms as she marinated all he’s said in her head._

 

_Understanding, diplomacy, negotiation. After everything she’s put him through—the betrayal, the beatings, choking, and blood—he still offered two paths instead of one. She could easily make a third, run to her past superiors and fight against him as an enemy once more, but she knew he doesn’t believe she will._

 

 _No, he_ knows _she won’t; all this time and Armin still knew her better than herself. He’s war-torn, the sweet side of himself buried beneath layers of scar tissue, but still clearly_ there. _It sprang forth tears to glide down Annie’s cheeks only for the streams to be rubbed away quickly and fiercely._

 

_She didn’t know what to do, wished she was never pried from her crystal but be left to run out her time and die in peace. She could only think about her days with him, how Armin smiled more then, how she actually wanted to smile with him. Hours passed as she flipped through the mental album book of her memories and still, she couldn’t come up with an answer._

 

_So, when Armin entered her cell that night, approached her bed as he spoke her name, Annie stayed silent. She could see his hand reaching out then recoil back, showing Annie that he was also indecisive on what to do. She lifted her head, dull blue eyes as tired as his._

 

_“What you said.” Annie started. “Everything you’ve told me about the last 5 years, the war, your offers...they’re true?”_

 

_“Every word.” He said immediately._

 

_“How can I be sure of that?”_

 

_“I’ll show you myself if I have to.”_

 

_The pause she dragged out is purposeful, to make him squirm and for her to search herself deeper. Her eyelids closed.“I have your answer.”_

 

_Armin’s silence invited Annie to tell him her choice._

 

_“And I’ll tell you...on one condition.”_

 

_Armin frowns at that. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”_

 

_“It is now if you want my answer. It’s only a request that I need in this room. Nothing dramatic.”_

 

_Hesitation flashed over Armin’s features before he agreed to hearing her out. Motivated, Annie sat up from her bed on her legs, moving towards Armin. Instinct drove him back, but Annie’s quicker reflexes grabbed his bolo tie and brought them so close together, their faces were centimeters apart._

 

_“One more time.” Annie whispered.  “Be with me one more time right now and I’ll tell you.”_

 

_It took a moment before a hot blush painted Armin’s face. He nervously looked about the room. “Annie...they’ll wonder where I am and why I’m not in my bunk. Plus, there are guards keeping watch.”_

 

_She was pleased that he at least considered her request first before weighing the cons. “The doors are thick steel and walls are stone. If they aren’t already drunk or asleep, they won’t hear us.”_

 

_“There are vents though...”_

 

_“Vents that can travel three stories below the surface. I don’t think that’s much of a problem.”_

 

_Armin’s brows bunched together in thought. It was sights like this where he was stuck in his head, examining every avenue of attack that made Annie want to spring up from her knees and kiss him, make his worries go away. But she couldn’t._

 

 _“You_ will _take one of my options, right?”_

 

_“Yes.”_

 

_“No games. No tricks. No kicking me on my butt to escape?”_

 

_“Only if you stop making the idea sound so tempting.”_

 

_The bridge of his nose pinched and Annie knew he doubted her, but that was okay. What she really wanted looked to be accepted and excitement closed her hands tighter on Armin’s shirt collars._

 

_Armin’s final answer was him leaning in with his lips, but she averted to the side, his lips instead capturing her neck. She clutched his shirt, fell backwards on the bed and took him down with her._

* * *

Armin’s middle finger slides along the line of her soaked sex, dips in between her folds, and Annie sighs, her eyelids fluttering. It’s a sweet relief, her body melting into the warm invasion of his fingers, throbs around them as sweat pops up on her skin. Soon he’s knuckle deep and jerks his hand against her in slow, hard pumps, earning a twitch of her thighs and clenching of her toes. Annie gasps sharply when his thumb flattens over her swollen clit, rubbing harsh circles around it. A pleasure lightning crack sparks awake her nerves and jolts her body.

 

“More…” Annie sighs. Her voice sounds fractured, the hand in her hair fisting a clump of golden strands.

 

Armin makes a sing-song hum of acknowledgement and speeds up, the wet sound of his fingers moving in and out of her growing louder. He’s drunk on the noises she makes, missed seeing how his fingers diving into her turns her breathing ragged and body thrashing. She’s as greedy as the wet muscles spasming over his busy digits, lifting her hips in time with each thrust of his hand and Armin lips curl with pride.

 

Another finger pushes in, probing so deep that Annie groans. A gust of hot breath blows over the space between her legs, lighting up Annie’s eyes just as Armin’s mouth closes over her clit. He sucks hard.

 

“ _Ngh-ah!”_ Annie cries out with a buck of her hips. Her hands shoot down to entangle themselves into Armin’s hair, rolling her hips in sync with every suck, moaning when he nips her sensitive nub. He shoves his fingers deep within her and white-hot fire crackles over Annie’s nerves, quivering the strong thigh muscles beside Armin’s head. He knows she's close.

 

Armin’s fingers pull away and a vulnerable noise escapes Annie, clenching around emptiness and so near the peak that she clutches his hair, ready to shove him against her so hard, he has two choices: eat her out or suffocate. Her aggression dies when Armin’s fingers spread open her lips, trails his tongue up one, licking the dew soaking them. Annie arches her back, twists flaxen hair in her hands and when his tongue wriggles inside, she cries out like she’s in pain, her heels haphazardly digging into the sheets with every tongue-thrust into her.

 

She shoves him against her harder, hisses when he makes a pleased hum that vibrates close by her oversensitive clit. She’s panting heavily, teetering so close to the edge as jolts of pleasure turn into a electrical storm, until Armin makes one more deep thrust of his tongue, a pinch at her clit, and Annie throws her head back and shrieks. Her thighs clamp around his head and she tugs on his hair, bucking hard into Armin’s face as a bone-shaking orgasm envelopes her, floods out her body in a gush that’s spilling down Armin’s jaw.

 

The lightning-quick throes of pleasure disappears and Armin hisses when the death grip on his hair releases. Annie falls back in a daze, relaxing atop the sheets. Armin lifts up his head, his hands feeling over his face, searching like he’s lost something, and breathes a sigh of relief.

 **  
** “Phew, that’s lucky. I thought my head was pressed into a pancake.”

 

Annie flashes him an annoyed, tired glare. “You should count yourself lucky that you’re even breathing.”

 

Annie knows her threat sounds weak and the confident smirk Armin unveils behind the hand wiping away her wet mess causes Annie’s cheeks to redden. “You too. You looked like you were struggling. I can go easy next time, if you want.”

 

A retaliating foot kicks into Armin’s chest, knocking him back on his rump as he lands with an _oof._ “Hey! You’re getting closer to a breach of contract!”

 

“Oh, fuck your contract.”

Her thumbs dip into the belt of his underwear—impatient as ever—and yanks them off. The blond soldier shudders as cold descends on his erection, an old shyness creeping up to aim his eyes away from her. He hears her snort and Annie climbs up to him so quickly, Armin can only flinch when he finds her face parked close to his.

 

“You want something,” She whispers breathlessly, her lips centimeters from his. Her warm hand wraps around the base of his cock, squeezes, taunts the throbbing vein speaking the strain his body feels by slowly stroking her thumb along it. Armin whimpers in agreement. “So do I. But the only way you’ll get it is the way _I_ want.”

 

They’ve already come this far, Armin’s brain reasons, and his cock pulses to remind him that he’s unbearably rigid, pulsing unbearably as her thumb traces circles over his flared tip. She squeezes his base again, prompting a grunt from him, and Armin hisses that he would _really appreciate it_ if she could _stop_ doing that, but Annie refuses to ask again and instead arches a condescending brow.

 

His nod of agreement motivates her to start and Armin nearly bites through his tongue when Annie yanks him up by his hard length, ensuring he’s on top of her when her back meets the bed. Her tight grip releases him and Armin exhales with relief. Habit makes him part her legs, position himself between them but Annie slaps his shoulder, tut tuting him with her waving finger as he looks on her quizzically. She twists herself around, places her hands and knees against the bed and pushes up into a position which sends electricity frizzing Armin’s hair and quivering his spine.

 

“What happened to Mr. Confident?” Annie’s deadpan stare looking back at him is unwavering, but a ghost of a smirk curls the side of her mouth. Armin cringes when her bare rump presses against his lower abs. “No need to act so shy about it.”

 

One of Armin’s thicker blond brows twitches. “I've seen that enough times for me to _not_ get embarrassed.”

 

“We must remember differently then.”

 

He pouts. “I don’t remember you complaining about how it went.”

 

“Are you going to make me complain now?”

 

His stiff cock thumps hotly against her inner thigh and Annie moves to slide her wetness along him, slips backwards towards his base to bump her firm cheeks on his pelvis again, leaving Armin shuddering and groaning throughout her journey. His hand drags down the trench of her spine—a sensation that’s intense enough to rattle Annie’s bones—and descends on her hip. He’s entranced by a warrior of her caliber baring her back to him, dares to trust him with vulnerability and control. It’s been too long and the sight aches his groin.

 

The hot pulsing of Annie’s inner muscles makes her damn near ready to take aim and impale herself on him, then Armin takes her by the hip, the sensation of his blunt tip nudging past her wet lips knotting her chest.

 

“You won’t complain...” He murmurs, his voice so gravelly and deep that Annie’s stomach drops. “Not if it’s your way, right?”

 

Armin pushes in and Annie’s head drops, her mouth gaping wordlessly. He’s bigger since the last time they did this, his cock squeezing in like he’s splitting her in half and just when Annie expects to be full, she whimpers, her thighs shaking as another inch of him yields her open.

 

“ _Ngh.. nn-haa…!”_ Annie winces, her elbows tight against her sides and hands balling the sheets below her shoulders when he bottoms out. The stretch and stinging between her legs worsens, her inner muscles ache, and she's full of an unbearable pressure but it’s _good._ She’s dancing along the line of pain and pleasure, sweating and gasping through it the way she likes. Her body works to adjust, a fog hanging over her head until a forceful thrust knocks her out of it, forces out a high pitched cry from her while Armin clutches her hips.

 

He plows into her mercilessly, the sharp pounding of his hips sending her mind reeling and sight spotty. He pushes her back into an arch that brings her rear up, slides out almost all the way and dives in so deep that Annie wails. The hot sting of him slowly becomes pleasant, pleasure bubbling in the pit of her stomach like molten magma.

 

” _Ah...ahh!”_ Annie sobs, enraptured by another hard, deep thrust. Her inner muscles constrict him tightly, earning a guttural moan from him as he tries to pull out. “ _Ngh..._ Armi-... _naah!!”_ He fucks into her harder and Annie buries the side of her burning face into the pillows, cursing, “ _Sssshit_.”

 

His hips pulse harshly against hers and Annie fights back by returning it back to him, taking him as he takes her, lifting herself up on her tiptoes. Armin moans with her, her juices coating his cock, the slippery friction they pound into each other zapping every nerve in Armin, driving his pelvis to slam against her backside so hard, he wants to see if he makes a dent. The hoarse cry ripping out Annie’s throat breaks out prideful goosebumps over his skin and he didn’t care if the entire Scout regiment could hear her; an arrogant side he’s not so in tune with  _wanted_ them to.

 

The squelching sounds between her legs explain how hot and wet she is. Her hair is a tousled mess and the arms holding her up shake while beads of sweat drip down her back. All of it fans the fire in Armin’s lower back to branch out, blister and burn every inch of his skin, and Armin is suddenly reminded of the flaring sensation of being burned alive. He didn’t think he would be so welcoming toward the returned feeling.

 

Annie’s breathing skips, jarred that a hand escaping her hip is now exploring over her, studying her body’s quirks, scavenging between her thighs to rub at her clit, running the pads of his fingers up her thigh, taking in every blemish along the way before kneading her rear. His thrusts were aggressive like she wanted, but his hands went another route—the route Armin takes when he wants to show affection.

 

It stirs a growl to rattle in her throat. This isn’t a happy reunion where loving words and confessions are exchanged. Annie throws a fist backwards to remind him, but her weak strength allows him to catch her by the wrist, pull her arm back, and dip his head to kiss her tricep, then the middle of her back. If she remembers correctly, it's a kiss that explains how much he’s missed her, that she’s precious.

 

The gesture makes Annie queasy with guilt. “Armin...please…” He pistons inside of her again and the strangled shout she lets loose must make her sound so pitifully desperate. “ _Please…”_

 

_Please stop._

 

Armin takes her plea another way and leans down so his chest fits the curve of her sweaty back, pushes her down onto her stomach, his body flat against hers. He bounces his hips against her ass to fill her hard and fast and deep, and Annie keens, both far past caring if guards or civilians hear them. Her muscles throb over him with every thrust and Annie throws a hand back to clutch his hip, begging through garbled shouts and moans for more, adding to the inferno blazing over his body.

 

The old mattress beneath them creaks, ringing louder and louder as Armin rubs his face into the back of her neck. His hands dig beneath her, fighting against the sandwiching of her and the mattress to reach between her legs. He slams into her again, sucks at the sensitive spot on her neck and when his fingers rub and pinch her turgid clit, Annie sees white. The powder keg of her release bursts, flying over her skin and spine like an explosive flash fire. She lets lose a strangled scream of ecstasy, her walls clenching around Armin like a fist and he gasps, coming with a snap of his hips.

 

They shudder and pulse against each other until they’re emptied and spent. Armin sinks down bonelessly, letting his weight drop on Annie’s back. She doesn’t object, finding comfort in the crushing feel of his body wrapping around her. She joins him in the chorus of their deep panting echoing across a room that smells of sweat and sex.

 

Armin’s heart beats rapidly against her shoulder blade. He’s comfortable with his face tucked into her shoulder, savors it before Annie comes to her senses and pushes him off, but he’s surprised to find her still and silent, catching her breath and aiming her face to the side.

 

Curious, Armin lifts himself, staring down at her. Through a small crack in the curtain of matted blonde bangs, he spots a lone eye; the pupil is blown wide, glazed over with fleeing lust and something else he isn’t sure he can say. Her chest works quickly to slow her breathing but frigid blue is now tame and sleepy.

 

A light flickers on in Armin’s head. He pulls out completely—Annie responding with a shuddering sigh—and flips her onto her back, turning her face towards him. He takes in how her focus is foggy, eyes half-lidded and dazed. It’s like he’s been propelled back in time, sitting here at fifteen again and memories flood his head; the minuscule and genuine smile she wore just for him, her snoozing next to him and hearing her mumble in her sleep, him listening intently to see if she says his name. They were reminders that he may have been loved and so was she...back then.

 

The clouds in her eyes clear, and upon seeing his face so close to hers, panic constricts her pupils. Annie pushes against his chest and face, aiming her sight away, but he intertwines his hands with hers and slams them to the side of her head. When she moves to use her muscled weapons to kick him off, Armin’s lips claim hers.

 

Their eyes don’t close as his jaw rolls over hers and Annie sees that gentle blue eyes still have their color and depth, so much like the boy she knew years ago. Seeing them this close again is comforting and suffocating. Guilty talons drag down her brain, trying to tug her away from the sky and sea, but Annie can’t escape. A river leaks out her eyes and runs over her ears. She caves in and returns his kiss, pressing passion deeper against his mouth after they part for breath.

 

Pain lances Armin’s heart. He kisses away the trail of her tears and through a cracked voice and hands pushing at his chest, Annie begs him to stop, to leave her alone, but Armin ignores her. He presses kisses into her forehead, nose, and cheeks, but he knows that isn’t enough. Annie isn’t a woman who is easily convinced, who doesn’t often use words or even likes them, so Armin decides to use a language she understands.

 

When he positions himself at her fluttering entrance, throws her legs back to hold them by her ears and penetrates her deeply, Annie’s mind shatters. His fingers are anchored into the back of her knees, and her flexibility lets his face hover close and eyes stay glued. Annie cries out, Armin diving so deep, pain spears up her abdomen. He’s struck her cervix, leaving Annie with a stinging ache between her legs, but the pain is quickly countered, red-hot waves lapping over every shaking limb, the pleasant stretch of his girth leaving her feeling filled. A gratified sob chokes out of her as his cock shoves forward like a battering ram and collides with the mouth of her womb. He keeps hitting each spot that drives her mad, pain and pleasure fighting against each other again and again, and Armin has to quickly clamp his lips over hers, nervous that part of the scream she’s now pouring into his throat will actually be heard.

 

Armin’s shoulders tuck under the back of Annie’s knees, letting his hands wander her body, cupping her breasts and spanning her ribs. When he sinks his grip into the firm muscle of her ass, Annie moans and throws her hips hard into his.

 

“ _Ngh-guh…”_ He grits out pathetically. A sneer makes it on Annie’s lips. He sounds as weak and pitiful as her and when her hands slid down and grabs fistfuls of his ass, Armin’s yips turn into growls. A thrill dances down her spine.

 

“ _Armin,”_ She croons. “You’re doing so, _nggha!...well._ Someone’s been, _ngh,_ practicing.”

 

“More like I’ve, _haa_ , had a lot of time to, _nnha,_ fantasize.” Armin pants out. He then plows in deep enough to bump her cervix again, earning a hiss from Annie and a flinch of her thighs. “And it’s rude to accuse a man while he’s, _phaa,_ working.”

 

A soft smile played at her lips, pleased not just at what he’s said, but also towards the surprise widening his eyes. She brings his face down, capturing him in an apologetic kiss. It eases her to know he hadn’t slept with another, that he’s waited for her to come back. She’ll gladly take his hips pounding hers into dust, his teeth biting her lower lip and tongue diving into her mouth however many times he wants.

 

Armin rubs his forehead against hers, his eyelids screwing shut and Annie joins him in focusing, biting her lip as they both chase their orgasm. Annie’s breath catches in her throat, the wet friction sloshing inside her too exquisite for sanity to be maintained and when Armin thrusts in so hard, pain flares in her tailbone, heat blasts over her skin like Titan-shifting steam, curling her toes and clamping down her muscles in one of the tightest strangles Armin’s _ever felt_. He comes with a shout and liquid heat spills into her again, his own thighs dripping with her pleasure as they ride out their orgasm with weaker and weaker bucking.

 

A buzz hums in Armin’s head, his body light and weightless, like he’s floating. Floating then shifts to falling when Annie grabs his face and pulls him down into a bruising kiss. Her lips rove fiercely over his, their heads tilting from side to side, her arms holding him tightly against her as nails dig into his shoulder blades. Her tongue slips past his parting lips and fights with it, twirls around and glides along the slick muscle. Armin manages to pull away for a second and utter out, “Anni-“

 

Annie forces him back onto her mouth, a hand threading through the back of his head keeping him against her and although Armin is pleased that she reciprocates his affections, he is  _really_ having a hard time breathing. His breath comes in as short, raspy gasps but his hands are gentle as they slide over her cheeks, his kisses softer against Annie’s harsh ones. His softness slows her lip's ravenous motions, her chest pressed against his deflating as calming kisses take over them both. He swipes his hand over her hair until her kisses are as chaste and light as his before unlatching himself from her mouth.

 

His focus goes to the pocket watch that’s made it out of his coat pocket. He notices that his deadline is nearing and when their sights meet again, Annie finds herself staring into the eyes of a soldier once more.  

 

Her heart sinks.

 

“Annie, this was nice and everything, really. But...I still need an answer.”

 

Annie averts her eyes and snorts. “And you’re the one complaining to _me_ about being rude. I haven’t even cooled down yet and you drop a bombshell on me.”

 

Blue eyes glimmering in the torchlight are sympathetic. “We both knew this was always going to be how tonight ended.”

 

Silence sweeps between them. He’s right and stormy ice-blue stare at the wall, mulling over her decision while Armin waits above her patiently. She inhales, soaking in how they’re connected, how their bodies are pressed up close. When she finally aligns her sight with his, she lifts herself up, takes the chance to press one more kiss on his lips, lingering there for a long while.

 

 Then she whispers her answer.

 


	2. Yes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the timeline where Annie agrees to help Armin. Enjoy~

 

 

_The sky is serene and cloudless. The cheerful chirping of birds echoes through the air, bringing a sense of peace that reminds Armin of when he used to lay on the grass and stare at the sky with his friends, dreaming together of how they will one day reach the birds flying up high._

 

_Armin would give anything to be up there now; the mood of calm winds and the blessing of a beaming sun doesn’t fit the desolation resting below. The ground smells of decomposition and pungent sewage, littered with bodies which bloat and rot under a sun they’ve been under for too long._

 

_Armin keeps his eyelids shut. He doesn’t want to look anymore but the memory has been seared into his brain— the faces powdered with dust and streaked with tears, the shoulder-shaking sobs as loved ones are yanked out from beneath the debris he’s created. A scream sharp in horror and pitch springs Armin’s eyes open and a sea of rubble greets his vision. Bodies burst open like melons or charred as black as burnt meat are scattered amongst the Naval fleet’s ruin. He watches a mother and father sob, cradling a young boy whose lower half has been crushed. Armin remembers seeing the boy struggle beneath the rubble, staring fearfully at him before Titan feet swept away any life the coast had left._

 

 _Vomit burns in Armin’s throat. He’s never wanted to_ scream _so much, goes so far as to open the large jaw of his Colossus to release a long-drawn-out bellow, but nothing escapes. He’s stuck in this torturous hell with no way out of the hot, meat sarcophagus he hides in._

 

_“I had no other choice.”_

 

_The soldier within the Colossus freezes. The world around Armin seems to rumble and groan as he repositions the massive neck of his Titan and peers down at its shoulder._

 

_Eren crouches there, his long hair shifting from the gentle breeze, his face stoic. Emerald spheres devoid of remorse or accomplishment roll up to stare at the Colossus._

 

_“You of all people understand why I had to do this.” Eren coldly remarks._

 

 _Armin’s response bobs up on his Adam’s apple only to be swallowed thickly down his throat._ _He doesn’t know why. He_ wants _to know why, but all he knows is that this man at his side is a stranger, calm and empty and so much unlike his passionate, short-tempered friend._

 

 _Eren’s eyelids close as he stands up. “We are a speck amongst the rest of the world, objects to be trampled and demonized. It’s the same smear job the nobles and First Interior Squad did to us years ago. And what did all that fighting do for us? To escape from being scapegoats and villains from our own people only to be seen as the same thing in the world’s eyes?” His fist closes, clenching so hard, Armin sees rivulets of blood drip between his fingers. “I refuse for it to be this way. For you and Mikasa—_ everyone _—to be seen as lesser. To be_ used _.”_

 

 _Eren points his finger forward and as the thick neck of the Colossus shifts to follow Eren’s line of sight, the bloody tragedy below is replaced with the calm, lapping waves of an ocean coastline. “Our enemy has always been beyond this sea.” The conviction is firm in Eren’s voice. “They’re on every land we ever hoped to step on and explore. They planned to bring the fight to us, but we stopped them and we will do it again. We’ll show this world we won’t lie down and be erased. We will_ fight. _”_

 

_Armin gapes at his childhood friend as blood drips down from his hand and splashes into the water below. Eren looks up at his Titan-shifted friend, his determined eyes fiery and features solemn._

 

_“Sacrifices have to be made, Armin. And if I have to, I will sacrifice my humanity for you. For all of you.” The wind in his hair covers Eren’s face as he redirects his body toward the sea. “Because it’s always been like you said—People who are unable to abandon anything will fail to bring about change.”_

 

_Icy dread cascades over Armin. The jaw of the Colossus opens, like it’s trying to respond while Eren breaks out into a sprint. He jumps off the Colossus’s shoulder, a crack of thunder crashing down from the clouds onto where he falls. A light that’s as bright as the sun explodes into the sky, blinding Armin._

 

_When his sight returns, the battered remains of Wall Maria and Marley’s nuked coast fill both of his eyes, the destroyed towns resting side by side. Eren’s Attack Titan bolts past the devastation that birthed his desire to fight and past the history he’s repeated. He runs toward the lands across the sea on a carpet of bodies that fans out farther and farther and farther._

 

* * *

 

Armin inhales sharply, shocking himself awake. His palm is sore from his chin resting on it and his neck is painfully stiff. As he carefully cricks his neck, grimacing all the while, Armin notes how the nature outside has become icy. A sigh Armin wished could be one of relief leaves him; his dream is over, but as he looks out the carriage window, he sees that they are beyond the walls, riding away from the chaos stirring within them. He’s stuck in another form of hell.

 

“Armin, what’s wrong?”

 

The young soldier flinches. Armin doesn’t need to look to know that Mikasa’s concerned onyx eyes are burning into him. Annie sitting across from them—iron-bolted shackles encasing her hands and ankles and gagged with a cloth that’s tied between her teeth—furrows her brows; he knows she shares the same concern.

 

“It’s nothing.” Armin answers both of them. “I was just jolted awake from the cold.”

 

He could almost _feel_ the heat radiating off Mikasa’s narrowing eyes. She doesn’t believe him and Annie blinking slowly at him from across the carriage explains she doesn’t buy it either, but Armin isn’t worried about one white lie right now. Eren is consuming enough of Mikasa’s mind and the last thing she needs is to hear about his dream, to be reminded of what Eren’s becoming and what he might be planning. She loves him and he’s betrayed her deeply; it’s a feeling Armin knows all too well.

 

The winter sights zipping by distracts Armin from the two women voicing their frustration of him with bone-shaking death glares. The forest of pine trees and berry bushes are dusted with snow, stretching out far and wide over a white-blanketed plain. Armin hasn’t seen the snow or felt the cold’s icy tendrils wind through his hair since the Survey Corp’s training days. Titans and pondering the world outside the walls was stressful enough but it was nothing compared to what weighed everyone down now. A part of Armin almost wished he could be that blissfully ignorant again.

 

Using the fringes of his hair as an eye cover, Armin shifts his gaze onto Annie. She wasn’t granted so much as a blanket—her prison garb leaving her legs and forearms uncovered— and yet, Annie doesn’t fidget at the frosty air seeping through the carriage’s cracks. Her face is a marble statue copying his form, staring out at the ice-covered lands with eyes as grey-blue eyes as the frozen lake they ride past. Her dedication to appearing unphased and uncaring is as firm as ever. It’s a will that Armin admires.

 

Annie’s eyes dart toward Armin faster than he can flinch. Nervous blue register a cocky twitch of her eyebrow, telling him she knows he is watching before Armin tears his eyes away. A flush burns Armin’s face, Annie straightens her back in pride that she’s unnerved him while Mikasa sits quietly, emitting a dangerous dark aura beside him and _damn it,_ Armin _swears_ he is hearing lightning crackling in the space between the two girls.

 

Both of them are so similar— protective, gifted in combat, and sharing a determination that would shake the boots of high-ranking officers—but rivalry and pain keeps them apart. Armin wished both of them could see that one day... _if_ they ever could.   

 

“We’re here.” Mikasa flatly points out. The lean soldier opens the door and the brisk air rushing inside raises gooseflesh on Armin’s skin. The smoldering black orbs from the Ackerman fall onto Annie. “Out.”

 

Annie complies, though both of the girls keep their eyes locked like lionesses homing in on a kill until the blond hops off the seat and crunches into the snow. Armin follows after, his boots sinking in snow half-a-foot deep. Trees surround the carriage like fish trapped in a bowl while stony cliffs tower over them. Jean trots over on his horse, his glare as venomous as Annie’s before he dismounts and secures the reins on a nearby tree. Connie gallops over soon after and performs the same, though Annie sees that his frown and the look in his eyes are more uncertain toward her than bitterly suspicious.

 

Her iceberg-blue eyes are clear of emotion but Armin notices the tips of her fingers are trembling. To be wearing a thin gown on top of freezing cold shackles must have been torture and while it was tough enough to convince the squad not to mummify her during transit—Mikasa especially—Armin couldn’t leave her like this.

 

Armin unbuttoned his coat and settled it over Annie’s shoulders, going so far as ensure her arms were securely shielded from the icy wind and removes her gag. An emotion passed through Mikasa’s eyes just as Jean’s eyes narrowed. The instinct to stammer out an explanation itched on Armin's tongue, but he pushed the urge down, concluding that he didn't need to explain and further support his already voiced conviction of Annie being a reliable ally. He didn’t expect her to be given the respect other allies receive, but she should at least be made comfortable.

 

“I’m cold, not disabled.” Annie scolds him. She holds the rim of his jacket to secure the heat in better. “I can wrap myself on my own. But you know what would really help me? Taking off these shackles.”

 

“Not a chance.” Jean immediately answers.

 

“What if I say please?” Her tone appears expressionless but Armin detects the playful lilt to her voice.

 

“It’s either the shackles or we cut off your arms and legs. Pick your poison.”

 

“Does the second option include you carrying me?” Annie deadpans. “If so, option two doesn’t sound so bad.”

 

The goateed man’s jaw sets and fists clench until a voice suddenly yells, “Hey!” A boot hits Jean in the back of the head, evoking a loud yowl from him. “I didn’t risk my skin getting you guys here to have you beat up on each other. Knock it off!”

 

A brown-haired girl hops off the front of the carriage and into the snow. She gives Armin a genuine smile, though to him, he always suspects mischief is behind it. Jean holds his head while the brunette picks up her boot. “I swear, you’re all temper and no tact. I can’t believe people say you’re smart.”

 

“Oh, criticism from a woman who shuts me up by _throwing a boot.”_ Jean snarls. “Great strategy. What’s _your_ attack plan if you were caught behind enemy lines then? Offering them sex?”

 

“That’s none of your business.” Hitch dismisses. “Though I’m sure you’d _love_ to know.”

 

Hot air blows out Jean’s flaring nostrils while Connie gives him a comforting pat on the shoulder. Hitch pulls her boot back on then rests her hands on her hips.

 

“We’ll walk to the outpost from here. There isn’t much but it’s off the radar and it’s a good place to set up operations.” As Hitch examines the state of the group, her eyes rest upon Annie. Her eyes then settle on Armin standing in the freezing cold with only a button up shirt. “Humph, _now_ one of you decides to be a gentleman. None of you couldn’t have handed out coats before we left? _You_ knew where we were going all along, Armin. If you’re cold, you’ve done it to yourself.”

 

Armin’s lips tighten into a straight-line, put on the spot and unamused about it. The sharp exhale through Annie’s nose could be interpreted as irritated, but Armin and Hitch know she’s amused.

 

Hitch shrugs. “Come on then. I’ll show you all around.”

 

The remaining loyalists to the Survey Corp surround Annie in a triangle formation. Mikasa watches Annie’s back, holding the chain from her wrist shackles while Connie and Jean remain alongside her right and left. Armin and Hitch guide the group from the front, taking them away from the carriage hidden within a maze of trees.

 

The frozen sting rubbing against Annie’s ankles is annoying and the shackles only slow down her wadding around in the snow. She grips the edges of her jacket tighter, desperate to keep in the warmth. As they trudge through the snowy forest, a guttural grunt amongst the trees snaps Annie’s neck to the right.

 

A bison stands with their young beyond the trees, the nearby deer now scampering away as the large creatures nibble at the surviving clouds of green brush. There are even horses in the distance trotting happily through the snow, falling on their side and kicking up white powder as they flounder about with their hooves in the air. They consume a piece of nature that simple creatures like animals and kids can appreciate, but Annie has never experienced it. Her mission kept her away from everything, even from enjoying the seasons. 

 

A snap of fingers in front of Annie’s face brings back her focus. When she gazes up at their destination, her pupils shrink and heart skips.

 

The dark opening of a cave rests before them, it’s mouth large and tunnel within deep. An iron portcullis sits upon the cave’s rocky threshold, appearing like teeth waiting to bite down on her. A fear born by years of her father and commanders drilling how dangerous caves were for shifters prompted her body to move backwards. A firm hand pushing into the middle of her back stops her.

 

“The only way you’ll move is forward.” Mikasa asserts dryly. “Move.”

 

Natural defiance motivates Annie to ignore the Beast, but fear wins and keeps her where she stands. She still doesn’t know the plan, doesn’t know if they will barricade this place and lock her up again. Even with her hardening ability, she isn’t sure it can penetrate the thick iron gate.

 

“I take it I won’t be staying in the outpost.” Annie posits.

 

Armin’s chin falls down a fraction. “We had to agree to some...conditions. With our clearance to take you out of the city, we had to agree to find a cave to put you in. But it’s not like we won’t be nearby. The outpost is a little further into the forest and we can see the cave clearly. We’ll also have someone standing guard so you won’t be alone.”

 

“ _Standing guard_.” Annie mockingly repeats. “You mean someone to throw down the gate if I try to leave.”

 

“Exactly.” Jean and Mikasa affirms matter-of-factly.  “You say that you’ll fight with us; whoop-de-doo.” Jean continues. “But that doesn’t mean we believe you or know how long your desire to help us will last. I wouldn’t be surprised if you turned tail and ran the minute the fighting starts.”

 

“A partnership starting with doubt…” Annie scoffs under her breath. “We’re failures already. And here I thought you were all a little more trusting than me.”

 

Connie’s lips downturn into a deep scowl. “You’re comparing us to who you knew 5 years ago. Those kids are dead now.”

 

Annie’s eyes are fixed on the buzzcut man, inwardly surprised. She isn’t used to Connie of all people being so serious, more so that he is capable of frowning so fiercely.

 

“We may have finally found something we have in common then. The kid in me is dead too.”

 

The frowning man looks away, more interested in how cracked the frosty bark of a nearby tree is. Connie at least _had_ a childhood. Annie isn’t sure the child in her ever even lived.

 

“This isn’t a trick, Annie.” Hitch reassures her. “We came this far to be away from the epicenter of anything. We have nothing to gain by bringing you here.”

 

“You have _everything_ to gain.” Annie argues through clenched teeth. “You can lock me in there and leave me to be found by Marleyians or starve to death. You can trap me so another Titan can eat me. But I swear, if you so much as try to do _anything_ , I’ll make sure it won’t just be me trapped underground.”

 

Armin’s blue irises are soft and knowing as he says, “And that’s exactly why you have nothing to fear. Both sides can easily screw the other, so for the benefit of all of us, there’s no need to try.”

 

The hand Armin extends to her gives Annie pause. Jean and Connie flash Annie and Hitch an uncertain look while Mikasa locks her focus on Annie’s back. The blond prisoner stares at his hand like it’s a relic carved with an ancient language.

 

Once more, a pit of darkness stands before her and Armin is a light opposing it. Even Hitch being present is comforting and slowly unravels the knots tightening her stomach. Annie never expected such vile romantic poetry like this to _actually_ become a real-thing and through some unspoken link Hitch forged through months of endless nagging and yammering to her about boys and good looks, a knowing smile curves the brunette’s lips; Hitch knows affection when she sees it.

 

Annie lifts her hand and when her fingertips graze over Armin’s, his heart flutters. Then she shoves his hand into his chest, pushing so forcefully that he teeters backward.

 

“I’m handcuffed and freezing, you idiots.” Annie snaps. “So, if you know the way, hurry up and lead before I’m frozen. _Again_.”

 

Hitch swivels around, hiding her growing smile as she walks into the cave. Armin follows suit with the group following behind him until the darkness of the cave swallows them whole.

 

* * *

 

Annie had never been in a cave before. She’s never experienced claustrophobia before either.

 

This cavern was everything her commanders lectured it was: a dark, dank prison with a nose-stinging stench you can never fully snuff out. Lanterns with bright white light lit up the man-made tunnel, revealing the misshapen holes within the rocky walls from which Annie assumed ore was harvested. There was no greenery, no flora, only the dusty, grey atmosphere of uninteresting rock.

 

Great. She traded one shitty living quarters for another one.  

 

Walking through the tight confines of the tunnel put Annie on edge, her hands balling underneath Armin’s coat. “How much longer are we going to keep walking?” Annie asks irritatedly. “It feels like you’re escorting me to my tomb.”

 

Jean made a snort, sounding almost delighted while Mikasa responded, “We haven’t been walking for long. We’re almost there.”

 

“Easy to say when you have boots on.”

 

Mikasa didn’t respond. She only stares down at the smaller girl, keeping close to her back so Annie keeps walking forward. A large opening at the end of tunnel brings a relieved smile to Armin’s face. He jogs forward a bit while the others follow behind more slowly. After passing through the opening’s craggy threshold, the blond prisoner’s eyes widen.

 

Before them stood a large pocket of open space where iceburst stones riddle the walls and stalactite ceiling. A small lake rests nearby, the humming light above reflecting off the water’s surface like sparkling crystal. In spite of the lack of sun and the consistently depressing atmosphere, a hauntingly beautiful blue glow illuminates the cave.  

 

“The water is fresh.” Armin comments. Gravel crunches beneath his boots as he walks along the lake’s pebbly shore. “We often use it to keep the outposts and incoming scouts supplied. If you’re worried about bathing, there are showers in the barracks.”

 

Barracks. Now there’s a word she’s never been happy to hear until now.  She looks to the small wood building settled nearby the lake. “Odd that you’d build barracks in a cave when there’s a perfectly good outpost nearby.” Annie observes. “Especially one so deep underground.”

 

Armin scratches the back of his head. “We didn’t exactly…finish mining and there have been reports of cadets stealing and selling the stones on the black market. Building the barracks deeper with more guards helped us to not bleed resources. We’re always running against time.”

 

Annie only blinks. She doesn’t really care about why, only that it was odd. As they approach the shabby wooden building, Annie finds it definitely smells like barracks; sweat, old socks, and a bodily smell that Annie hopes wouldn’t reek on at least _one_ bed. She is surrounded by empty bunk beds and it brings about a strange feeling in Annie.

 

This was stable shelter with a firepit nearby and untouched wood to help keep her warm. To be given so much as a pillow from people she backstabbed was baffling enough.

 

“I was hoping to get a little more sun on my pale skin.” Annie couldn’t resist commenting. “But I guess the pretty stones will do.” Past the row of beds, Annie spots a small kitchen empty of both food and knives. She snorts. “I won’t be of use to you if I can’t keep my strength up. Or do you expect me to eat the rocks?”

 

“We have provisions in the outpost.” Hitch answers.  “I’ll make sure you’re fully stocked later tonight. The catch is,” Hitch twists on her heel and makes a circle outline with her finger toward Mikasa, Connie, and Jean, “There is no meat, so _you_ three need to help hunt. I’ve done a good job of leading you to it. Now all you need to do is catch them!”

 

“In other words, you’re leaving us to do all the hard work while you sit on your ass.” Jean criticizes condescendingly.

 

“No. I’m going to be _warm_ and sitting on my ass while you do all the work.” Hitch fights back with a sneer. “You all have more experience anyway. Armin and I will just fuck it up.”

 

“Why are you speaking for me?” Armin frowns.

 

“I’ve seen you shoot. It’s not impressive.”

 

Armin sports a frown with flattened eyebrows while Annie keeps her eyes closed. “As long as it’s not that garbage gruel from the dungeons, I won’t complain. But I do have a request.” She brings up her red, chafed wrists, her finger pointing to the chilly shackles. “If I’m going to be alone down here, you can at least take off the restraints.”

 

Mikasa, Connie, and Jean exchange a quick glance, as if they were telepathically deciding their next move. Annie can’t transform and the one person who could challenge her held the keys and would be sleeping nearby. They should know they have the advantage.

 

Mikasa then takes off the ring of keys alongside her belt and walks up to Annie. As she inserts the key into the lock, the formidable soldier whispers chillingly. “Remember, you’re out of practice. I’m not.”

 

A frightful tingle runs along Annie’s spine but her frigid eyes denies the Beast from smelling fear. Undeniably, she is out of practice and her time spent in the dungeons has degraded some her muscle mass. Jean and Connie are taller and stronger, appearing deadlier than ever and even if Annie wanted to escape, her uncertainty of their and Mikasa’s evolved strength was too high.

 

The shackles on Annie’s wrists unlatch and fall to the pebbly floor with a _clank,_ the restraints around her ankles falling off soon after. She winces slightly as her hand nurses her wrists.

 

“Connie and I will have first watch.” Mikasa says. “If you need something, transform and the falling rubble will alert us.”

 

Armin groans and Hitch rolls her eyes. Annie purses her lips. “Don’t start giving me ideas.”

 

“Alright, alright.” Armin interjects, his fingers holding the bridge of his nose in frustration. “We’re leaving.”

 

“Don’t forget this.” Annie shrugs Armin’s coat off her shoulders and throws it at him. “This will save the others ears from hearing you whine about the cold.”

 

“No, I think you should have another coat.” Jean says as he looks at Connie. “Armin was a man about bracing the cold but you bitched about it the entire ride over here.”

 

“ _What?”_ Connie icily challenges. “Our scarves _barely_ covered our faces. And you’d be complaining too if your face felt like it was becoming a block of ice!”

 

“Having a beard helps.”

 

 “Yo-...you have a _goatee_ , you asshole. And a wimpy goatee like yours would be lucky to fight off a breeze.”

 

“You’re just lashing out because your beards come in all patchy.”

 

“The only hair that comes in patchy is your _-”_

 

“Leaving!” Armin addresses again. He pushes the arguing men forward with Mikasa and Hitch walking up at his sides. Annie can’t help but be entertained; Jean and Connie are annoying, but watching them fight is a nice distraction. It’s a reminder of simpler times.

 

Once Armin buttons up his coat, he peers over at Annie and to her, he almost looks happy. “The barracks have a lot of clothes and blankets stored away. Even some boots. Everything may be a bit dusty, but they’ll do.” He turns around to follow the others but his eyes linger on her for a long moment. The softness around his eyes paired with the deep whirlpools of blue sinks Annie’s stomach to the floor like a falling anchor.

 

 _I’ll see you soon_ , his gaze tells her.

 

Mikasa’s neck turns and Annie quickly twists around before the Ackerman can see her red face. Annie’s heart beat as rapid as a hummingbird’s wings in her chest.

It’s amazing to her; after all these years, the way Armin looked at her hadn’t changed.

 

As Annie walks into the barracks, she stands in the middle of the room, taking in the quiet atmosphere.  She quickly throws wood into the firepit and sets it aflame with a match, rubbing her hands over the waves of fire until the cold in Annie’s muscles finally thaws.

 

The blond prisoner then examines each bunk as every mattress retains a clear outline from large, sturdy men. Annie settles atop each bed to feel it out, finding that the only remotely soft mattress is nearby the fire. She sets up her home there, harvesting the smallest clothes she could find—the smallest being two times her size—and tightens the laces of boots one size bigger. Her body then falls back over the dusty pillow and sheets, folding her hands behind her head.

 

The sound of wood crackling echoed along the empty building, hues of orange and red dancing along the wall. This was a setting where Annie truly didn’t mind being alone. It was quiet, peaceful even, so much so that Annie felt time propel her back to the last time she felt this way, of when Mina’s skinny legs swing back and forth from the top bunk as she hums and ties her hair. Ymir and Historia walk by while Mikasa changes into her fitness clothes down the aisle. Sasha sneaks in from the dead of night, hiding loaves of bread under her shirt and drooling waterfalls.

 

A sudden gloominess hangs over Annie. She had been stuck in a crystal chrysalis for so long, she doesn’t know what happened to more than half of the cadets who bunked with her. Mina is gone, she hasn’t seen Historia, Ymir, or Sasha in forever and the only information she had was Armin speaking to her, her eyes closed for years as she listened to the evolution of his voice.

 

 _“I know everything, Annie. Where you came from, what you are...what_ we _are.”_

 

_“Annie, the train is done! I wish you could come see it. It took a while and we almost died from dehydration because of Sasha, but it’s done!"_

 

_“Eren, he—he’s left us. I don’t know where or for how long, but he’s gone…”_

 

 _“We obliterated everything. Marley is defenseless and the city is calling this a victory, but it doesn’t feel like one. One of our friends…. we ...oh_ god _…”_

 

_“Annie, say something. Please…”_

 

Annie chews on her thumbnail. She didn’t need the many years of military history lessons to know that civil war is on this island’s horizon. Marley’s army is an apparent ruin and Annie wishes so fiercely that her father was spared from the carnage.  The very thought of him lying dead like the Walldians she crushed made ice flood her bloodstream.

 

She hopes Armin is right. She hopes in some way she could help because all that remains of those who can bring about change are here in this outpost...and Annie isn’t sure if they can so much as come together once the fighting begins.

  



	3. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I have to disclose that there will be spoilers and a pretty damn big one at that within this chapter. Chapters 100-112 were in mind while making this, so for the love of god, BEWARE.  
> If you're worried about getting spoiled and just here for the smut, just start from the bottom of the chapter up LOL. You can put things together easily from there.  
> Enjoy!

 

“So, how long have you two been a thing?”

 

Armin jerks in his spot on the hardwood floor. From a side-glance, Hitch sits atop a large wooden crate, drumming one heel then the other into the side out of boredom.  Her finely plucked eyebrow mockingly elevates up her forehead.

 

“I wouldn’t really call it a _thing._ ” Armin answers with a guarded tone. _“_ It just happened a couple of times. It was nothing official or talked about much between us.”

 

Hitch’s lower lip sticks out, displeased. “You’re telling me there’s no romantic story of you two meeting together in the seclusion of the woods? No using the barns for a good time? I thought you had guts.”

 

“Sorry to disappoint you. _”_

 

The young woman crosses her arms bitterly. “Humph, what a shame. I knew _she_ was boring but I was hoping you’d be a bit better. All that crap about ‘it’s always the quiet ones that are freaks’ had me curious.”

 

The rowdy brunette huffs out more discontent comments while they keep warm by the fire: how she was _right_ about all of his visits while Annie was crystallized, how she couldn’t believe he didn’t have the nards to tell her about his and Annie’s history despite growing more comfortable with each other, and as she drones on, Armin shakes his head more so at Hitch’s _very unneeded offer_ of describing sexual positions than being ashamed about how he failed as a friend.

 

If she focused on that alone, he would agree with her.

 

“But now that I think about it, you just might not be giving me the specifics.” Hitch says with a sharp twist of her mouth. “It took you an awful long time to convince Annie to join us. I thought it was because you have to keep throwing conversation at her just to get her to say two words, but you… you had a particular _glow_ that morning.”

 

The blushing soldier’s face turns so red, steam could eject from his ears. Usually he’d sputter out some excuse, but Armin knows it's better not to fight Hitch once he’s caught. “Did you tell anyone?”

 

“Enemy plus elite soldier sleeping together equals everyone has a bad time, Armin. Do you really think I’m that stupid as to so much as whisper about it?”

 

Armin bows his head, the flames sashaying in the fireplace reflecting in his eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way...but thank you. It helps a lot.”

 

Hitch hums playfully. “As a favor for keeping my mouth shut though, I expect that you’ll treat me the same way you treated Annie. But you better have stamina. I _hate_ men that are one-minute wonders.”

 

Armin’s widening eyes regard his friend with horror and confusion. “... _what_?”

 

Hitch hides her mocking giggle behind a well-manicured hand then shoves his shoulders. “You’re too easy to fluster! Annie must have fun with that. You’re cute when you’re all red.”

 

Armin frowns lightly. “Don’t call me cute.”

 

“Why? Is calling you that a special privilege for Sleeping Beauty only?”

 

The young blonde’s seemingly endless patience draws closer to its end point as Hitch quirks her eyebrows coquettishly at him. Not wanting to be prodded further, Armin stands up and opens the nearby cellar, descends into it and plucks up scratchy, brown gunny sacks filled with vegetables and produce. Hitch giggles in the background as he hikes up the stairs with bags over his shoulders, still trying to fan his irritation by wondering how Annie must have liked intercourse— if she was a true top or bottom, if Armin’s pleasant demeanor is a guise for something more beastly—while he pretends like his jabbering friend doesn’t exist.

 

He ignites a match over the stove, allowing a large pot of water to boil before unsheathing a knife, lining up stalks of celery and potatoes to peel and slice.

 

“ _Trost showed me how short life is…_ ” Armin’s memory echoes in his head _. A lone finger dragged down the seam of his button-down shirt, his heart thumping harder and harder until her palm flattened on the hem of his shorts. Annie uttered “And that sometimes we have to take a leap…” before shooting up on her tiptoes and capturing his lips with hers._

 

Armin is painfully aware that he is not as tall or bulky as Jean or Connie—can even look damn effeminate if he tried and he had been fondled by one man too many to find that out—yet Annie still chose him. Even if it was a brief fling, it’s been a fact confusing him since the first day her lips welded with his.

 

The front door burst open, allowing the brisk, winter air to flow in.

 

“My catch is bigger than yours!” Connie gloats outside. He admits himself into the building with the carcass of a doe resting over his shoulders.

 

“Tch, in your dreams. Just _look_ at this beauty.”

 

Jean slams his catch on the ground, the body of a 20-pound antlered deer laying limp on the floor. “Top that, peach-fuzz.”

 

“The goal was to be creative and avoid using guns, idiot. Now we have to watch out for your damn buckshot when we’re eating. _I_ was actually able to use the maneuver gear’s anchor”

 

“And because you _did_ get creative and prolonged killing it, you probably spoiled the meat, you _idiot.”_

 

Overdramatic rivalry bow-legs the boys and stoops them lower as they argue, almost bumping foreheads, until Mikasa barges in between them. Hitch yelps when the hairy, three-hundred pound Bison carcass is dropped on its muscular side.

 

The black-haired girl turns to her friend readying dinner. “Will this be enough for our time here?”

 

“If not, there is always more outside.” Armin answers, his knife riding around the pitted body of a potato. “Even if we have to be here for more than a week, we won’t need to ration the food out.”

 

Just saying those words makes Armin queasy and his comrade’s face pinch sourly. They’ve been used to the opposite for so long, to scrimp and save for every dust-covered morsel they could find; now, a feast wanders within and outside the walls.

 

Armin and Connie team up on chopping vegetables while Jean and Mikasa cut away the finer cuts of meat from their trophies. The outpost is dusty, sparking the habit of cleaning to buzz at the back of the Corpsman’s heads and they all nod in mental agreement as Hitch yawns atop her crate, lounging and stretching out her arms to the ceiling.

 

“Hey, Hitch.” Connie lures the brunette with a sneer, invitingly curling his finger. “I was stationed here for a while and got to see where the commanders kept their good shit. Want to see?”

 

The steam from the boiling pot of meat and sliced vegetable stew heats up the air, warming the outpost’s new tenants as they work. They are a small group, but the clamors of conversation and Hitch bemoaning her new mop and dusting duty fills the air.

 

As Armin ladles soup into bowls, his hand hovering over the pot pauses. His head swims from a sudden rush of Deja vu and when the dark-lined baggy eyes of a stressed soldier lift up, his heart drops like a brick of lead.

 

Phantoms from heartrending memories sit amongst the row of empty tables: Eren and Jean exchange fists in the left hand corner with a loud crowd goading them on; Sasha and Connie team up to sell sob stories of their horrific training day to the table’s tenants and win an extra loaf of bread for dinner; laughter resounds through the room and Armin swears by it—would bet his own two hands on it—that his memory replays catching Annie smile. It’s the lightest fraction of rising lips, one that is sad and fond and momentarily warm, but to Armin, it’s an uncommon gift.

 

Now those lazy days are gone and these peaceful flashbacks do nothing more than rest as fresh and fond in his mind like beloved lullabies. It isn’t long before the ghosts disperse into a mist and then to nothing, leaving their smaller crew amongst the tables as the sit comfortably, recovering from a large dinner.

 

“It’s been a few hours now.” Hitch brings up, placing her bowl next to Armin to be cleaned. “We should bring something to tie Annie over for the night. And before you give me that ugly look of yours, Jean, _I’ll_ take it to her. I’m so tired of hearing threats today.”

 

“You’re too soft on her.” Jean chastises flatly. “We need a keener eye to watch her. She’ll pull a fast one on you.”

 

Hitch let out an incensed snort. “Then send Armin in if you’re so worried about Annie and I making out. Can’t say I’m not disappointed.”

 

The humor curdles on Hitch’s face once Jean hardened eyes swivel to Armin then back to her. His passing glance to his long-time comrade is serious, suspicious almost and while Armin’s empty face doesn’t show it, his friend’s hesitation towards him wounds him deeply.

 

“I say Connie should go.” Jean puts forward after a long moment. “He’s the less compromised out of all of us.”

 

“Don't drag _me_ into this shit.” Connie gripes.  “I don’t even understand why she came with us.”

 

“The biggest advantage of my Titan is being a blockade and a bomb.” Armin reasons coolly from across the room. “But no advantage of maneuverability or speed. That’s why she came with us.”

 

“Egh, I never said I didn’t _literally_ understand why she came with us.” A mask of fussy embitterment washes over Connie’s face as he folds his hands behind his head. “I just don’t get why _we_ have to travel with her.”

 

“Because we’re the best there is and it’s a bad idea to split up, moron.” When Hitch bonks the top of Connie’s head with the end of her broom, Armin wonders if it’s because she truly believes Connie is dumb or because he voiced disdain over someone she has friendly affection for. “How have you not choked on your own stupidity yet? _”_  

 

Connie defensively shoots up from his spot just as a voice calls out, “I’ll go.”

 

The disputing soldiers twist around their heads. Mikasa stands up from the carcass on the floor and places a stack of cloth-wrapped meat on a nearby table. “You three need to stay here and rest; you didn’t get much on the ride over. And whether we like it or not, Annie is a part of the team now. She should be fed like one.”

 

“I’m not disagreeing with that.” Jean begins. “It’s just-”

 

“Armin will come with me. He’s the only insurance we have where she won’t pull something stupid.” Mikasa’s drained onyx roll over to Jean’s. “Unless you think I’m incapable of handling her myself.”

 

The side of the goateed man’s mouth jerks, his hand rubbing his cheek like he’s been slapped. “I’d never think that. I’m just worried about _her_ and what _she’ll_ do no matter what or who are involved. She doesn’t speak for weeks, she’s never opened up to any of us, then all of a sudden, she pledges herself to us? It doesn’t make sense.”

 

“If Armin claims she will fight with us, then there is no reason for you to worry. Be suspicious all you want, but we are going.”

 

Mikasa denies Jean further responding by turning her back to him. The two soldiers zip up their coats, preparing against the cold while Hitch helps ready food in the sacks.

 

When Armin walks over to take the two bags of extra supplies, Hitch whispers so only he can hear, “What you brought is in the bottom of vegetable sack. You better make sure to give Annie my best too when she finds it.”

 

Golden strands bob up and down with his nod, his light smile appreciating Hitch’s sentiment before she shoves the large sacks into his arms.

 

Both Mikasa and her childhood friend walk out into the dark depths of the forest. The air outside has a frosty bite, apple-cheeking their face as a mural of stars sparkle in the icy winter sky. Snow clopping on the ground from a nearby branch is the only noise within a deafening silence that follows the pair until they arrive at the cave’s snaggle toothed mouth.

 

“Mikasa....” Armin starts as they approach the cave. “Why are you actually doing this? You’re no fan of me being by Annie either, or visiting her.”

 

Mikasa stares at the moon floating in the black sea of the sky. “I was never against you visiting Annie. I only warned you against it because of what Jean is saying—how it looks suspicious and like you have sympathy for her.” When stoic eyes divert to Armin, it draws a chill in him completely separate from the cold night. “But there was always something more when you were alone with her, wasn’t there? I could see it—you walked more quickly when you went to see her. Even when you left, it looked like ten pounds was taken off your shoulders.”

 

Armin’s sullen body language is all the explanation Mikasa needs. Her attention is drawn back to the luminescent circle hovering above them. “It’s odd, isn’t it? How if you stay away from someone for too long or are denied talking to them, you feel like you’re off your balance. Like your world is tilted.”

 

Matured, thick eyebrows draw closer when she turns to him, looking at him with a puzzled look. “Why are you still here? Go down there with her. You’ll feel better then.”

 

Armin’s boots dip into the snow when he moves forward, like he wants to broach something else with her, then hisses, recoiling back when a finger with the firepower of a bullet pokes into his sternum. “Go and be careful.”

 

Those words have different meanings to unpack and before Armin can ask her, her finger pushes him back, making him stagger backward and crunch onto chilled gravel.

 

Mikasa stands guard at the entrance, protecting him against all who dares threaten him like she always has and Armin’s chest is suddenly plagued by a stinging sensation of a knife carving a circle over his heart.

 

He so desperately wants to swap places with her, truly wishes their positions where switched wherein he guards from afar and Mikasa travels to where Eren resides. He knows her heart is breaking, hears her lamenting this rift between their trio at night when she thinks no one can hear her, but nothing he can do or say will make his sweet friend feel better.

 

Armin turns, clenching his eyelids to halt a flow of tears and travels down into the cave.

 

He doesn’t want to give Mikasa another reason to be sad or worried.

* * *

 

Annie sighs, falling back on her chair from a plate once displaying a large slice of meat left red to her liking with a side of broccoli and potatoes. “First you wine and dine me and now you’re saying there’s a gift too?” She smirks a bit. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were setting me up for something, Arlert.”

 

Armin’s nose pinches from across the table, like he’s fighting back the color of red now flooding up his neck and cheeks. “I just wanted to make you something nice. It’s been a long trip and I figured dry bread crusts weren’t very satisfying for you.” He drags one of the prickly, brown sacks closer to him then lifts it, handing it over to her.

 

Her flattened eyebrows show how openly unimpressed she is. “This is the oddest present I’ve ever gotten.”

 

Armin laughs a little and shakes his head. “I swore to Hitch I’d only let you open it and it’s a miracle we could even sneak it out. Now go on. Open it. It’s from both of us.”

 

The bag Annie retrieves from Armin is heavy with vegetables rolling against the other within. She follows Armin’s direction, her forearm inside and digging past the stacks of potatoes and radishes until she feels a plushy bottom. When she pulls whatever remains inside out, the grey of her eyes fills in with vibrant blue.

 

Her hoodie as pristine and soft as she remembers it rests in her hands. It takes a moment for the sight to settle in before Annie unfolds it, excitedly tugs it over her head and shoulders, sighing contently once the warmth of silk encapsulates her torso. She feels warm and oddly whole and Armin can’t distill the erratic beating of his heart when a smile pays a visit on her lips. For the first time in forever, they’re smiling with each other.

 

When she reaches back for her hood, eager to make her comforting shell complete, Annie feels something bumpy and square inside. When she pulls the object in front of her, a small arm patch with the fine handywork and stitching of the Wings of Freedom meets her eyes.

 

“If you’re one of us, you’ll wear our emblem.” Armin says with a small smile. “Your history will follow you and that can’t be helped but it won’t mean that you aren’t a part of the Corps.”

 

It’s a bold gesture for Armin—for Hitch too—, to call her a trusted teammate when the team he treasures so much is falling apart. Annie grips the patch in her hands.

 

 A fierce belief—that’s what this symbol represents and it’s a notion so alien to Annie that at first, she’s unsure, but Armin’s belief in her allows her to beat away the hesitation.

 

Through riots and screams and cries for blood, Annie will wear this gift and she will wear it with pride.

 

“Thank you, really. It’s not unnoticed upon me that you’ve stuck your neck out for me. I’ll do everything I can to be of use.” Annie then fidgets. She’s had a lot of alone time to think and she’s aware this must be horrible timing, but she needs to give voice to the only thought she has, “Armin, you’ve asked me a lot of questions over the past few weeks. I think it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

 

Armin blinks. He doesn’t refute or shift uncomfortably in his spot— he simply sits back in his seat, his body language saying he’s open to her questions.

 

“Why did you agree that night? It was bold, even for you. Anyone could have walked in.”

 

Armin’s small smile dies down. He fumbles with a fork between his fingers. “Levi gave me a mission: to make regrets impossible. It was probably stupid and not well thought out on my part but…” His eyes avert as he scratches one of his reddening cheeks with a finger. “I would have regretted not staying with you, especially with not knowing what your answer would be. I just went for it.”

 

“And what does that night make us?”

 

“I don’t know. Did you have something particular in mind?”

 

Annie bites her tongue. She isn’t so sure herself, wants to tease that by accepting each other, it makes them a couple—or something special, whatever—, but the stigma is so severe, she’s afraid to so much as mention it.

 

“ _I’m_ the one asking the questions here, not you.” Annie dodges. The edges of Armin’s lips curl pleasantly before she says, “Next question. The group is much smaller than I remember and I haven’t seen anyone else from the old group since I’ve been awake. Hange, Levi, Ymir, Historia, not even Sasha and seeing Connie without her looks so strange. Where are they?”

 

Armin’s pleased expression squirms and his eyes turn a doleful blue. “They couldn’t come.”

 

Annie remains focused on Armin’s face, detecting inner turbulence. “Couldn’t come because of their own choice? Or against orders? I would think the more Survey Corps members you had, the easier it would be to contain me.”

 

“That isn’t an illogical conclusion.”

 

Annie’s jaw sets in a fine line. He’s being too cryptic and it’s pissing her off.

 

“Armin,” She presses. “You’re doing a good job of making me feel the way you do when I pull this kind-of shit but it’s _not helping_. Where are they?”

 

Firelight dances across a face becoming loaded with sadness and bitterness and regret, feelings Annie is all too familiar with. She sighs, seeing her abrasive approach isn’t helping and opts for a better approach.

 

Her hand reaches out, homing in on the hand resting atop the table, but Armin jerks it back. His features are grim, a deep trauma quaking in his eyes.

 

“They’re not here.” Armin takes in a breath, and it hitches in his throat. “Ymir was eaten, we’ve failed Historia, and Sasha...the last time I saw her, she was lying in a puddle like this.”

 

A cold heaviness clasps over Annie’s heart. Trembling hands points to her plate where a cooling puddle of red has settled across the porcelain. Armin aims his face away from her, the wrinkles of his forehead and clenching of his eyes making him look so helpless, Annie wants to jump across the table, but she leaves him be. She gives him the space and patience he would have given her to continue.

 

“She found this place, you know…” His cracked voice murmurs. “It’s where she helped raise horses and cattle for the Survey Corps. She even found separate sites for the civilians to use so no one group got more food than the other. Sasha…always knew when something was just right. But now, everyone here is all that’s left.”

 

Annie’s eyes are wide and horrified. “If that’s the case, then why is Hitch here? Why isn’t she back in Stohess with Marlowe? She’s part of the Military Brigade, not the Scouts.”

 

Wheat-colored hair dangles when Armin ducks his head and suddenly, Annie’s stomach becomes a nest of snakes, hissing and twisting in her gut. “He’s gone too.” Armin finally admits. “He left the Police to join us. He died when we retook Shiganshina.”

 

Annie is dumbstruck. She sits back in her chair, the silence they sit in magnifying the intensity of his words.

 

Shock and pain splits Annie’s heart open. While trapped, a part of her hoped the stories he was telling her was a lie, how it was all just a dream he had or her mind had misinterpreted it or maybe he was working manipulation on her even then, but Annie sees now that her fears are true. Annie’s focus drifts to possibly the one person who could be considered a friend, how devastated Hitch must have been to hear about Marlowe’s passing, how she smiled so genuinely sweet at her when she stood outside the carriage.  

 

“I scrubbed the floor as hard as I could.” Armin goes on, like he’s stuck in a trance. “Blood got stuck between the wood boards and even when I finally got it clean...it doesn’t look the same. I still see Sasha there. I see her lying there every _night_ …”

 

Blond-lashed lids close over ice-blue in sympathy. They can’t keep doing this to themselves.

 

“Focusing on how it happened won’t make you feel better.” Annie softly points out. “You have to find a way to cope. Confront the memory or distract yourself from it by doing something else.”

 

“Find a way to cope…” He repeats solemnly. “Everyone always says that: just keep looking forward, talk about it, visit the spot until you’ve grown numb to it. I’ve _done all that_ already. I accept that she’s gone and that thinking about it won’t do a damn thing, but that doesn’t help _anything_. _”_

 

Annie wants to say that she’s sorry, that somehow, he will push past this, that things will get better and time will erode at the horrors waiting for the night to unleash itself upon him, but she can’t bring herself to. They’re empty words and promises and that’s all they’d ever be.

 

“I’ve tried everything I can think of to get rid of it, but none of it works. I keep thinking that maybe if I had thrown debris into the city, if I hadn’t been so _stupid_ and thought to add weapons to the blimp or instruct someone to watch the doors during the escape, maybe I could have stopped it. Things would have turned out different. She would...Sasha...would…” A shadow hides Armin’s eyes. He rubs his hands over his stressed face then exhales dejectedly. “And I’ve already ruined everything. I came to give you your supplies and a gift from Hitch and I and I already ruined the atmosphere. I’m sorry. I should leave.”

 

Armin rises up from his chair, but a blur flashes by, grabs him by his jacket and throws him back on the chair. He makes a startled noise, fighting back against teetering back in his chair and falling from the force of the shove.

 

Annie has hardly grown—is barely able to so much as loom over Armin—but as he sits, the hue of her eyes turns crystal clear, bristling so fiercely from fury, Armin feels like he’s shrunk down four sizes.

 

“You’re not going anywhere.” She asserts, icy authority dripping off every word. “If you leave, you’ll torment and blame yourself, overthink like you always do—overthink about something that’s _already done—_ but you’ll let it eat at you anyway. _”_ She clutches the shoulder padding of Armin’s jacket, something which feels like it’s done out of concern rather than fury to him. “You also heal and can hide what you do to yourself. So, no. You’re _not_ leaving. I don’t trust you alone.”

 

The traumatized soldier gapes at her. Lakes of blue then fall down to the floor, feeling he should be ashamed that she’s pegged him so easily, that he’s failed Levi and made himself look weak and worthy of regret in choosing him over Erwin, but Annie sees the motion differently, like the war within Armin has pulled him under. Once bright eyes are now dull, overwhelmed by mental wounds and Annie doesn’t know what to do, mentally scrambles to figure out _what_ _to do_.

 

“Focus on this and only this.” Armin’s neck twitches to the side when fingers too soft to belong to a ruthless fighter run up and down the buzzed hair on his nape. “Nothing can be changed and we’re stuck with the cards we’ve been given.” She tells him, this time more gently. “No amount of talking will change that. Relax and forget about it all for once.”

 

A conflicted groan leaves Armin. Unsure at how to proceed, Annie brainstorms again, calculates how to distract him and purge every pain on the planes of his body.

 

Armin’s eyes fall shut with a sigh when Annie kisses his jaw, lines its outline with gentle pecks. “Let me help you relax.”

 

Armin’s gut twists. He caught the seductive dip in her voice and his breath catches when her fingers slide down the bumpy ridge of his crotch

 

“Annie...you _can’t_ be thinking…” Armin says incredulously.

 

Annie puts a finger to his lips. “No more talking.”

 

The timid boy she remembers resurfaces, his blue gems nervous and the sight summons hot, pleasant fumes stirring deep in her core.

 

She removes his jacket and unbuttons his undershirt as he sputters, “Annie, hold on. If I’m gone for too long, Mikasa might - _gnh!_ ”

 

Armin’s back arches out of shock when Annie squeezes his balls through his pants. “Stop being responsible for a minute and shut up.”

 

Annie plants the most searing kiss she can muster before he can argue. An electric tingle dances along Armin’s spine as graceful fingers sweep over his crotch, working at the laces of his pants and every rough, bruising kiss Annie’s jaw pushes on his scooches Armin’s head farther and farther back until his nose is nearly pointed at the ceiling. The heat simmers at a low-burning flame beneath the pair’s skin, slowly coloring fair-skinned faces a deep red as their lips move, plundering each other’s mouths as wet appendages engage in a flicking, sliding fight that Armin didn’t care he was losing.

 

“Mmmm…” Annie hums victoriously down his throat. She peels back fabric and fishes out his thick column of flesh, swallows his surprised gasp when she strokes him slowly. He’s gone from half-mast to throbbing hard in her hand and Annie revels in it, smiles against his lips when his hips buck, begging for more friction. Annie responds with her small, firm thumb pressing circles into his cock’s weeping head.

 

The pair parts with a wet smack, their lips swollen and glistening as they pant for breath. Half-lidded crystal-blue take in the groaning, stimulated man melting in her grip: sweat dampens the short fringes on Armin’s forehead, the muscles of his stomach and chest tremble with his alabaster skin now so red, he looks ready to combust.

 

Pride blossoms in her chest. With a couple flicks and jerks from her tongue and wrist, the new God of Destruction is a panting, desperate mess. It must be twisted to enjoy this mind-warping control and power, finding herself amused at how his lips follow her hovering one’s side to side with all the effect of a snake dancing to a flute, but Annie doesn’t care; she wants to test him further.

 

“Breathe,” She says breathlessly against the shell of his ear. “You can’t pass out until I’m done.”

 

Armin’s heart beats in time with his pulsing erection. He succumbs to his blond siren’s thrall, hazy blue locked on Annie as she travels down, kissing his lean chest and the dunes of his abdominals, until finally, she kneels between his legs. The young man’s head is spinning and he doesn’t remember helping her drag his trousers down to his ankles or remove his boots, too lost in how her hot hands leave behind a trail of fire when they slide along his toned quads, how her breath is like an oven’s heat on his thighs.  

 

A gurgled groan tumbles from Armin’s lips when her tongue runs a hot, wet trail up his cock. Annie stops at the flushed head, laps up a bead of pre-come from the slit and digs into him with the tip of her tongue, drawing out a swift “Ngh- _guh!_ ” from Armin.

 

Annie’s hand grasps and lightly squeezes the base of his slick erection, the wet seal of her lips sucking his tip. Her other hand holds his balls like they’re weights, stirring them like marbles in her hands and pleasure clangs loudly in Armin’s head like a loud school room bell. His skin seers painfully, almost as if he’s been baking in a sauna for so long that now, his red, tightened face is likely visible from the heavens and embarrassment toward where she’s touching him dances on the last legs of his brain’s attention.

 

His brain is hushed completely once Annie’s tongue follows the stiff path of his glistening cock down, languidly licking and sucking his base, her breathing almost tickling him as she drags the wet digit up again. Armin’s mind is in a bath of boiling pleasure and he sinks deeper into it, drowning when pink, pillowy lips slide over him, the slick, humid vacuum of her mouth taking him in deeper and _deeper_ , down until her throat clenches and brows bunch up, struggling to go farther.

 

 “ _Aahh..._ nnie” He gasps raggedly, the lilt of worship on her name ringing in her ears and she blushes fiercely from it, gaining drive to please him more.

 

Armin’s body is completely limp, a hand on either side of her head as he follows her movements but does nothing more. He’s caught up in the crimson of her face and how her piercing blue eyes never leave his, almost as if she’s making sure he’s enjoying it, and if his jaw wasn’t flapping so stupidly right now, Armin would say this was like being drained by the most pleasant leech he’s ever met; he’s _more_ than enjoying it.

 

Annie’s cheeks hollow from a stronger suck and Armin yowls. He hangs onto the edge of the table for dear life, nails digging crescents into the wood as Annie moist lips slide down as far as she could go again, her tongue slippery-soft on the underside of his length, her pallid cheeks drawing inward as she sucks harder and harder. Armin slams and grinds a heel into the wood floor in frustration, his tiny noises of pleasure growing so high with desperation, it sizzles Annie’s blood and drops her stomach.

 

She picks up the pace of her sucking, the in and out motion of her mouth slicking Armin’s cock so his entire girth is easily taken in. Only moans make it through the light, wet sounds Annie makes while sliding on him until a noise she’s never known leaves Armin—a low, deep rumbling in the back of his throat, like a beast stirring from sleep. She shivers as a hot cramp knots tightly between her legs, twitches her thighs and demands to have him ram into her again.  

 

She takes a firm hold of Armin’s hips, pulling herself closer and takes his cock in and out more roughly, faster, until she’s sure her aching jaw takes him in entirely. She moans softly, the vibrations inside her mouth turning Armin’s breathing all the more labored, shocking the young man that such a wonderful feeling could exist. Annie’s humid sucks and velvety travels along her partner’s sex are noisy and right when she lets his tip bump against the smooth back of her throat for the final time, she moans again, sending vibrations so fierce all around his shaft, Armin shakes with them and finally crumbles to bits.

 

“Annie...Annie- _fuck!”_ He hoarsely cries out.

 

His hands on the side of her head grab her, keeping her head in place as fire bombs explode behind Armin’s wrenched eyes. A noise of surprise chokes out of Annie, every pulsing spill of his pleasure making his muscles shake and hips jerk up. Her throat swallows around him until he’s drained of warm, liquid salt and his pelvis no longer bounces.

 

Armin’s body sways, wandering in a fuzzy, humming emptiness. Twitching hands fall limply to his side, rendered so boneless that Annie has to rush up from the floor and catch him before he topples onto his side.

 

Annie carefully guides Armin’s sprawled body down until she’s kneeling again, looking down on him as he lays motionless. His dazed stupor reminds her of a few drug users she encountered from within the inner district— his pupils blown wide, like they were trapped on something millions of miles away, and his body put to ease.

 

It looks like she succeeded in quieting his mind, for now.

 

“Aa...nnie.” Armin mumbles like a spaced-out drunk. “I’m soor…y”

 

The side of Annie’s lip squirms with annoyance; she knows what he’s talking about—wipes whatever remains off her mouth after being reminded of so— and for _just this once,_ she lets it slide because he can pay her back another way.

 

Excitement boils and flies through Annie’s muscles as she tugs off her treasured hoodie. Her hands have never shaken so violently as she strains to remove her clothes, winces when the poor shirt fabric scratches over her aching nipples. Everything between her legs is so painfully swollen, drenched with her slickness, and screaming for release that when she moves to dig one finger into her, to sate the urge as she bends down to straddle him, Annie cries out, accidentally brushing her sensitive clit in her haste.

 

“Annie?” Armin searches, sounding more clear-headed and alarmed.

 

A hand trembling with anticipation runs up the toned line dividing Armin’s chest. “Ssshh.” Annie crawls over him, her back-bowing gracefully as her lips press on the pec protecting his heart. “I’m not done yet.”

 

Unsure hands place themselves on the shapely handles of Annie’s hips. “You don’t have to. Really, what you did was...what you did was amazing. My head feels clearer already.”

 

Small, tender fingers intertwine with his, the digits having such a nurturing softness, the bewitched man’s heart skips. Annie’s bottom then raises as she bends down, slamming his hands into the spaces on the sides of his head.

 

“You’re right—I don’t have to, but I’m going to anyway. And you’re going to take it. Got it?”

 

Through tendrils of loose, unfiltered blond, Armin sees desire has enlarged Annie’s pupils, has set her jaw and his young body pulses, yells at his stimulated-self that he would be crazy if he removed himself from this lion cage—would make sure he would put himself in a straitjacket and throw his stupid-self into the nearest mental ward if he so much as utters one more denial—so, he stays quiet and nods.

 

Fellow soft, sweaty hands leave Armin’s, allowing Annie to hover over him and rest her knees at his waist. She grasps his re-hardened pillar, still slick and thumping in her hand, aims the blunt tip at her opening and slowly descends onto him. They moan together as she takes him, filling her hot tunnel until her slick, stretched lips bump against his pubic bone.

 

Annie tilts her head back with a dreamy sigh, hands tightening into fists on Armin’s chest. She loves to savor the feel of pressure from an invader molding her body, how his hardness overloads her and pings sensitive landmarks her own fingers can never reach. Armin watches the firm muscles of her sweating stomach rise and contract as Annie works to adjust.

 

Milky thighs flex as she lifts up and Armin groans from her effort, grunts pathetically when she drops like a guillotine on him and starts working her hips into a slow, intimate rhythm. Annie’s quivering lips close around him upon lifting and spread apart when dropping, always slippery and hot, and Armin grits his teeth, hypnotized how her pointed-tipped breasts sway with the motion, the crease between her brows deepening as she’s immersed in foggy concentration. He’s surrounded by tight, wet wall traps, each pulse of her hammering heart he feels through her slick muscles all the way from when he’s nearly out to when he’s fully immersed in sopping tight heat, and it all drives his body so stark-raving mad that he squirms beneath her, his hands diving for Annie on their own.

 

She stops him mid-way, grabs and slams his wrists into the wood. His shaft slides out partially as she leans down to gasp out, “I said, _you_ will take it. Not me.”

 

A broken noise clicks in the back of Armin’s throat, like he’s begging her to let him touch her, but the dominant woman only restrains him tighter, clamps twitching thighs as solid as stone on him so he’s unable to dethrone her or move as she rides up and down, forward and back atop him.

 

Annie’s pale thighs glisten and cascade with wetness and the prolonging of her slow, deep drops on him allow a burn to settle in. She hikes up her speed, thrusting her pelvis into Armin’s faster and harder until they’re groaning in chorus with each other.

 

“ _Gnh, Hnng, fuc-!”_ The tortured soldier attempts to curse, but is so close to a knife-edged pleasure, he forgets to finish. He throws his head back into the wood from the rapid successions of clenches and unclenches around his length, and Annie takes the invitation from his exposed neck, bends down to lay smacking kisses and sucks on his throat all the way down to the top of his strong breastbone.

 

He’s sweating, near boiling over from electric pleasure and now she’s doing _this—_ why didn’t she just grab him by the nuts to make him _completely_ mad?

 

Frustrated at his confines and teetering closer to the edge, Armin flattens his feet, building strength in the balls of them and angles of his hips before meeting her, harshly pistoning up into her tight, dripping sleeve when she dives down.

 

Annie shrieks in surprised helplessness but Armin coughs when her fist pounds angrily against his chest. “Stop that!” Her sharp voice demands.

 

Her so-called submitter doesn’t listen; she should know better by now and is reminded of so by Armin’s wobbly sneer with her follow-up response being a growl. Shuddering gasps turn into grunts with every ram he forces into her rocking and from each impact, Annie pants out a sharp whine similar to a wounded animal. She gets back at him by consciously clamping her walls on him, making him yowl before cresting onto him mercilessly, zips down and bites hard on his neck, leaving him confused and flinching at an odd new feeling.

 

He’s twitching inside her with every hop now and Annie thrusts so hard, her legs are on fire and lower back tightens from strain. Their thrusts turn erratic and desperate, each of their liquid arousals running down their legs, sure to leave the floor a mess, and Annie pushes her hot forehead into his sweaty shoulder, both of them wondering if they’ve cracked their pelvises from how hard they crash into each other in their search for orgasm.

 

Sharp nails recede from her partner’s wrist, grabbing for his shoulders as Armin clutches her hips, the leverage allowing them to pound into each other so much harder, Annie quickly comes with a glass-shattering wail. Her hot inner workings clamp over Armin’s cock so fiercely, he follows her with a startled grunt, supernovas of pleasure bursting and blasting all over his body and spilling a gush into Annie. 

 

The height of orgasm made blood sing in Annie’s veins and wreak havoc on Armin’s body, vibrating both of their bodies like an electric chair occupant. Annie’s wails turn into whimpers—broken little noises made alongside an erratic pulse of hips, indicating she has nothing left to flood over him. Her body trembles while she holds herself up over Armin, appearing to him like a sad stray cat dipping its matted-hair mane from the cold rain, her chest dipping up and down anxiously for breath.

 

“Annie,” Armin breathes more controlled now. The firm hands on her hips slide up to her perspiring lower back. “Are you alright?”

 

A startled hiss seeps through his teeth when Annie pokes his sore spot, the spot where she hit him. “You never know when to shut up, don’t you?” She says like she’s half-asleep.

 

Armin tilts his head. “I guess...but wasn’t that the point of all this?”

 

A bubbly rush washes over the recovering soldier when Annie lifts her face, seeing a rare, genuinely amused smile. “I guess so. It looks I didn’t succeed in relaxing you after all.”

 

A hand lifts and runs over her now faintly red cheek. “I wouldn’t say that. I could always be asking more stupid questions, but I’m not now.”

 

An affectionate thumb runs under her lower lip, the originating hand sliding down her cheek to cradle her jaw and she leans into him, as if seeking out his warmth. Arousal hasn’t quite removed itself from his veins and because he is moved by how attentive and focused Annie was on him, Armin wants to do the same, wants to make her fall into pleasured abandon again. He shifts to rise, but he sharply inhales, feeling Annie slip off his softened cock before sitting on his lower abdomen.

 

“Another time.” Annie nuzzles the inside of his palm, reading what he’s thinking. “Once you’re fully rested.” Armin’s thick eyebrow flinches when she leans down, the kiss she presses against his temple warm and soft. “I don’t want you to leave, so rest here tonight. They know where you are and you’ll just keep worrying if you’re left alone.”

 

A past worry comes to light again. “And if the others start asking us questions? I feel like we should come clean to them then. It’s not like lying will help the strain between all of us.”

 

“I’ll do you one better—I’ll squish them before they even bother to ask. Problem solved.”

 

“...Annie, be realistic now.”

 

“ _Fine._ If the cold outside hasn’t done so already, I’ll freeze them to death with my glares… _then_ we’ll admit that we’re together. Happy?”

 

Armin lets his lopsided smile grow; he accepts that her offer is as good as he’s going to get.

 

A hand cooled from sweat leads Armin up from the messy, sticky ground and escorts him to the bunk beds with her. A fur blanket Annie found from a past general who stayed here helps seal in the warmth as they dive into the bed, though that doesn’t stop the couple from keeping close beneath the covers—his firm chest moving to press against her smooth back, her hands resting over toned forearms that wrap around her chest.

 

The fire across the room dies out, eclipsing their world in darkness and upon feeling Annie’s firm warmth seep into his—their toes curling and legs playing against each other beneath the furs— a new worry emerges. Armin’s hold around her becomes tighter and Annie wouldn’t mind it if his hug wasn’t growing as strong as a boa constrictor’s hold.

 

 “I don’t want you to leave either.” Armin chokes out quietly, resting his forehead on her shoulder. Her eyes narrow when his hold on her becomes so tight, the flat of his fingers presses into her skin. “I’m not...I’m not ready for you to and I don’t think I ever will.”

 

Annie stays motionless. She doesn’t know if she should turn around and hold him back, if she should kiss him and spill mushy words to him; once again, the barely social girl is at a loss of how to comfort what is inevitable.

 

The young woman new to love rests the side of her face against her troubled soldier, threads her fingers through his and runs her lips along his knuckles. It’s doing this and hearing him confess that leads Annie to a surprising development.

 

She doesn’t want to leave either; not this room, not this life.

 

Not anymore.

* * *

 

“He’s been out there for a long-time.” Jean mutters through a stiff jaw. A gust of steam from his sigh rises up into the air from his mouth. “Isn’t this just _great_. We ask you to find somewhere safe, but instead, you make sure your new buddy is outfitted with a fuckpad. Nice going, Hitch.”

 

Hitch tilts her head against her pillow. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“Don’t act like you don’t fucking know _._ I’m no dumbshit and I’m not blind. I see that there’s something going on between those two.”

 

Hitch snorts, her trademark sneer unable to be kept down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And you’re acting like someone is trying to stop you from going down there and checking in on them yourself. So, why don’t you?”

 

“I’m not so brave as to go interrupt them playing slip and slide. _You_ are more than welcome to do that if you’re into that kind of thing.”

 

“No, I’m more into the kind of thing where guys actually have the balls to confess how they feel to someone they care about. You don’t seem to be one of them, given how you act around Mikasa or Armin. Or are you just retarded when it comes to showing how much you care?”

 

Blazing brown quiver in their sockets before ripping away from Hitch, aiming them at the creaky ceiling. “You have no business to know why I do anything I do.” Jean bites out. “Only that if you saw what we’ve been through, you’d be just as protective as I am.”

 

“ _Protective.”_ She laughs in a tone of entertained disbelief. _“_ Give me a break. I heard how you shot Armin in the back just to get Annie to talk—you must be _really_ stupid in showing your feelings.”

 

“He heals, he’s already over it, and it got her to talk.  I don’t feel bad and you clearly don’t know how to interrogate.”

 

“I didn’t expect you to feel bad. After all, you’re just interested in what she’s thinking so you can grandstand to the higher ups, that you ‘knew she was no good all along’. You trying to prove your worth to be a general or something?”

 

Jean zips up from his makeshift bed on the floor.  “Of course, I’m interested to know! Everyone here has gone to war with me and if that bitch is going to put them in even _more_ jeopardy, I’ll be the first to cut off her head. Now if you know anything—fucking _anything_ —tell me _._ I need to know if she’s so much as thinking about running away so I can protect them.”

 

What looks like empathy washes over Hitch’s eyes. It’s quickly replaced by a teasing glint. “In my experience, people who boast a lot or dish out threats like cheap candy are insecure or trying to compensate for something. Are you trying to compensate, Jean?”

 

Exasperation turns Jean’s mouth. “You’re a real bitch, you know that?”

 

A pillow slaps Jean in the side of his face alongside a fierce yell, “Will you two shut up?! Some people are trying to sleep over here! Bitch about this when it’s morning!” Connie stirs fitfully within his slim bedsheets and stiff mattress of his bunk, grumbling, “It’s so damn cold and my balls feel like fucking rocks and I have two fucking assholes yelling in my fucking ears all night. _God damn it._ What else could go wrong tonight?”

 

Connie’s question stays unanswered, the quarreling soldiers turning their backs to each other in a quest to find sleep. Hitch is relieved she’s dodged enough of Jean’s questions to make him back off for a while and admittedly, she does sympathize with him, doesn’t doubt that in his own loud, chastising way, he’s trying to look out for everyone.

 

She can’t forsake him for his lack of tact, either—they are all frightened children here, barely capable of processing the world, let alone what they are feeling, and have only unspoken hints thrown at each other to act upon, but there aren’t many.

 

Hitch wishes she acted on hers, harbors a deep regret from not doing so, and on the inside, she wishes—truly hopes—that at least for Annie and Armin, they can be secure in where they stand after tonight, that they aren’t laying here miserably like herself, Connie, and Jean.

 

Just to know _someone_ had a one moment of peace in these tumultuous times would be enough for her to fall asleep faster at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a part 3. It will be primarily Annie and Armin and hopefully not be as long as this chapter LOL. This took so long to write. x_x
> 
> Update: Ideas ideasss. There will be a part 4, as well. :) That will conclude this story. Still deciding to do the "No" option.


	4. Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ….this is quite possibly the filthiest thing I’ve written. Ho boy.
> 
> No need to hold the cap open, I can throw myself into the garbage. *jumps in*
> 
> (I have never written so fast or been so desperate to get a chapter out of my head LOL.)  
>  

 

Murmurs of howling wind echoing through the cave’s craggy insides jar Armin awake. He yawns beneath the blankets, his waking brain growing confused. They’re fairly far from the entrance yet the infection of cold contaminates even the deepest parts of the cave. He wonders if there’s a storm outside.

 

Rising up from the furs, a chilly gust on his naked back and chest brings a shiver in him, reminding Armin that the partial darkness and blankets are shielding both his and Annie’s lack of modesty. The ice-burst stones shine like bright blue fireflies through the barrack’s dusty windows, giving Armin light to scrabble out of bed and feed a now growing fire before diving back beneath the covers.

 

Annie remains still beside him, snoozing softly even as movement from Armin getting comfortable shifts the bed. Her curled form reminds him that she is not a graceful sleeper, what with her face almost in a permanent frown, guarding herself even in sleep. To Armin’s relief, the rest of her pale body is relaxed and limp as she dreams. A pinprick of curiosity spurs him to hold himself up on his side with an elbow, his other hand rising to carefully lift the blanket above her front.

 

Looking down, he’s interested in how the faint squares of her abdominals become nearly invisible from every inflate and contract when air whistles past her lips. His eyes wander on how ankles from firm legs cut from marble idle next each other, leading up to a juncture where there’s a light patch of blond fuzz.

 

Armin recoils back a little. This feels a smidge wrong to him since they haven’t established boundaries yet, isn’t _completely_ sure what she will and will not allow him to do. As he sits and worries, restless hands bunch blankets between his legs, positive his stiffness is from a recent flood of rushing blood and not from an embarrassing case of morning wood.

 

Seeing her bare form reminds him of a few hours ago when nothing but pleasure twitched his fingers and curled his toes. He owes her a debt—truly wants to repay it too and do so in spades. He’s just not sure if it’s the needy fog of sex driving his hormone-riddled mind or if it’s fulfilling his desire to make her feel good that moves him closer to Annie. He hovers thoughtful hands over her before moving them down.

 

Soft finger padding trace the trenches of her shoulder blades, traveling down to ever so lightly cup and slide down Annie’s toned flanks. The firm globes of her rear are the next stage and Armin blushes so fierce, the fire across the room must get fuel to burn hotter from his searing red face. He takes his movements as slow as he can, gliding hands over her waist, then finally curling his palms on her muscled backside.

 

A light hum is all he gets, a distant acknowledgement of what he’s doing might be okay. Gaining confidence, Armin advances, slipping a hand over her side for his fingertips to mimic playing the harp over her thin stomach. He runs over sides and quads perfectly forged from discipline and Armin can barely swallow throughout his study of her, his eyes glued on a physique so fighting-fit and perfect.

 

“There better be a good reason for you waking me up.” Annie admonishes in a sleepy murmur. “That is, aside from you being perverted.”

 

He’s caught red-handed but he was always going to be. The young man runs a finger up the divide of her breasts because she hasn’t shoved him away yet. “If just wanting to touch you is perverted then that’s fine by me.”

 

Annie snorts snidely. “Of course, it is.” A pause. “Is that all you’re going to do?”

 

A light smirk yanks at the side of his lip. “It doesn’t have to be.”

 

Another pause. “ _Well?”_

 

If that’s not an invitation to continue, he might as well be diagnosed as deaf right now.

 

He pecks the space behind her ear, a thank you for the go-ahead. He peels back the blanket over her, wanting to see his exploration of every junction and crease Annie’s body has to offer. Fingertips slide up from below her navel to her breasts, her hard nipples tingling at his sweeping touch. He takes one soft mound in his palm, the other sliding up her back as a forefinger and thumb bend and play with the pink, sensitive bud.

 

Annie mewls hungrily, the sound quickly stretched out into a light hiss when he pinches her nipple and right buttock is caught in rough, controlled squeezes. He’s stamped against her back, pressed so hard, his rising heat mixes with hers. She shudders when the unmistakable sensation of his hardness pulses against her backside. She twists her head around, her hands reaching for him, only to have her stopped by Armin’s sudden grip.

 

“I’m fully rested now.” His hot breath plumes behind her ear.  Her heart pounds against her ribcage as both her hands are pulled back, wrists being wrapped by an edge of under-blanket before his muscled side lands on them, keeping her fabric-shackled hands down. “And I believe you owe me something.”

 

His words tightly wring Annie’s stomach. The warmth of his fingers and palms moving from strong arms, to solid legs, to perky breasts, and flexing sides draws slick anticipation to bleed out her pores and dribble down her thighs. Annie’s face flares hotly when he takes the creamy firmness of her rear more roughly in one hand, the other still squeezing her breast.

 

He gets curious on what’s between her legs, where her glossy lips come together and make a seam. He leads his fingers down, meandering along her belly and lower until he feels the slickness of her folds on his fingertips. Small anxious huffs leave her as he rests there, trails a finger down the damp lip-lined slot hiding her precious parts, then flicks the tiny pebble of her pulsing clit with his thumb. Annie chokes on her squeal and jerks.

 

“You _know_ what that does already.” Annie seethes, aiming angrily desperate eyes at him through unruly strands of platinum yellow.

 

Armin licks his thumb and applies twirls and rubs to her livewire clit, spilling out sharper squeaks and writhes from Annie.

 

“And that’s exactly why I’m doing this.” He sniggered.

 

He sounds so damn _proud_ and Annie can’t restrain desperation from intensifying her moans, amping up into a throat-drying gasp when two fingers spread her and sink into slick, scorching muscle. Annie’s lips catch between her teeth as he pumps quick and deep into her, rubbing her swollen button all the while. When his fingers—dug into her so deep, she feels where his fingers meet his hand— curl inside her wet tunnel, his thumb pressing hard on her clit, Annie shrieks. Her body lurches, shaking as if struck by high voltage. She’s whimpering and hot and so horrifically aroused that she wants to cry.

 

“ _Stop_ playing around.” She grits out hoarsely. She shoves her backside on where his rigid cock waits patiently on the sidelines. “Hurry up and fuck me already.”

 

“Not done yet.” The words sing out of him like a pleasant tune. His light smirk grows when Annie looks back at him, deducing from her fiery glare that large beasts must cower and run from such a dangerous sight.  He pries his eyes away to kiss and suck on her neck and shoulder.

 

Her clit throbs and body quakes from electricity clacking down her vertebrae. Her teeth sink into her lip deeper as he pumps in faster, harder, and now there’s _three_ fingers stretching her in and out. It’s unbearably cramped inside her, the tips of her knees tremble in front of her face, and her body is curled into a such a tight, hip-bucking ball because _god_ she’s _so close._ Her walls around his fingers quiver as he plunges in, thumb pressing hard on her clit, another hand squeezing her breast all in unison and she hiccups and jerks, her high-pitched moan accompanied by trembling walls squeezing around his fingers. A thick wetness runs down the palm of Armin’s hand, her hips rutting more and more slowly against the appendage which made her peak as Armin pecks her hickey-infested shoulder.

 

She collapses on a bed of her own messy hair, breathing heavily. Before Annie even has a chance to recover from the honey-laced sting of orgasm, mapmaker fingers spiral around her pulsing clit again and oils the pads of his digits by circling the soaked, sensitive pinkness within her folds.

 

He’s toying with her and she wants him and she is so _pissed._

 

“Stop being...such- _ah!_ such a fucking cunt and- _ngh-_ get _on_ with it!”

 

He pinches her abused clit and Annie yips so sharply, she sounds like a dog in pain. “Was that an insult or an invitation?” His voice is a perfect manipulative blend of innocent confusion and teasing.

 

“You _little shit_ — _nhah!”_ She arches her back into his sweating chest. His thickness rubs beneath the outside of her dripping lips. Two fingers peel back her folds and he grinds his flushed girth forward and back, reducing Annie into a whining, floundering mess as Armin works to have himself glisten with more of her egg white-like shine. He’s so close to where she needs it, fantasizes with her hands struggling at her confines that soon he’ll point his sweet cock up and impale her until he’s trapped from balls to tip.

 

She’s only granted his learning fingers circling over her pulsing bundle of nerves as his cock rubs beneath her.

 

Her teeth clench so hard it hurts. “ _Damn it_ Armin, just _fuck_ me already! Or are you going to wait until I’m blue in the- _HA!”_

 

The rod thick and thumping with life beneath enters her swiftly, stretching her lips tight around his length. This position is new and little awkward for the experimenting soldiers, only enabling half of Armin’s length to push through with both her legs down and his current leverage, leaving them both displeased.

 

Armin thinks—having to dodge an impatient slam from the back of Annie’s head into his to “get on with it” in the meantime—and finds a resolve. Armin hooks his arm around the back of Annie’s knee, hiking her leg up so they’re both on their sides and her leg dangles over his hip just so. The rest of his shaft beating hotly in the ring of her opening slips in easy much to the high, satisfied moan Annie frees.

 

Her body sucks him with wet greed and Armin almost releases right then and there, shakes his head desperately just to avoid so and regain focus. The dedicated soldier holds the whining woman in place with an anchoring hand on her left buttock and with legs and lips split apart, Armin shoves into her, going at a hard, swift pace that returns Annie’s body to when fire-zapping sensations skittered all about her sweating skin.

 

“Mmm... _Mnng_.” Annie whines and wheezes, the side of her face shoved into her pillow.

 

He pumps with furious ardor into her ribbed tunnel, wholly intent that she drowns furiously in mind-blanking pleasure like he did and Annie nearly sees spots from every sharp ram into her. Her ragged cries sounding like sobs tell him he’s getting her there, motivates Armin to weasel a hand past her side pressed on the bed and dive for her sheened cleft. With two rubs on her clit, Annie’s shriek rings out so high, Armin’s eardrums ache like they’ve nearly been ruptured.

 

Annie grows wet and so much tighter around him and Armin loves all of it, holds her closer to feel more of her and burrows into the plain between her neck and shoulder. They’ve been connected only a few times but Annie quickly gains a preference, loving his rabid onslaught of thrusts, his focus to take her so harshly and leave her so raw.

 

“Is that all _haa-_ you’ve got?” She provokes through a gasping, husky voice. A blue marble misty with lust peaks through the strands on her face, her cheeks stained a bright red.

 

The force from Armin grinding his teeth must have reduced them to nubs by now. “ _Fuck_ , Annie.”

 

Armin clutches both her hips in a white-knuckled grip, pounding harder against her battered behind as they hiss and cry out from sensitive skin slapping. Annie’s sky-reaching pleasure dawns and her taut back bends to an impossible arch against him. She screams and once wet confines tighten around Armin in a death grip, he’s dragged into exploding oblivion with her with the hissing curse.

 

A thrill always dances along her spine when his warmth flows into her, body shudders before relaxing against him. Their bodies float in a humming blank space, the back of Annie’s head resting on Armin’s shoulder while he lines the side of her neck with slow moving pecks.

 

Once his chest feels the hammering of Annie’s heart abate, he rolls the exhausted woman onto her back. He moves, now hovering over her and plants kisses all around her lips and face.

 

Annie says in tired annoyance, “I’m starting to get- “She’s stopped by another kiss. “Tired of” another “you thinking that” another “you wear” another “the pants here.”

 

The five-pronged cage of her fingers clamp around Armin’s face, halting him from raining more kisses.

 

“You got to run the show all last night.” Armin fights back through smooshed cheeks. “It was my turn.”

 

With a red-tinted cheeks, Annie rolls her eyes. He didn’t _need_ to pay her back but she certainly wasn’t going to say no if he wanted to take her on another trip to blisstown. Well-built arms shift to shimmy under her back and encircle her but Annie’s hands reflexively plant on Armin’s chest, intending to push him off.

 

Annie stops. Armin watches and waits from up above, fishing for her reaction to see if he truly has overstepped her boundaries. It takes a minute to fight back her habit of repelling before small, smooth hands rub the rocky leanness of Armin’s chest.

 

“Fine.” She resigns with a sigh.

 

His smile expands and Armin stuffs his face into the open space between her neck and shoulder, goosebumps rising on her skin when a warm gust from his sigh flows down. He holds her so tightly, his shoulders hunched and body tucked in so tight against her, all of which makes Annie worry again.

 

“This is a big 180 based off last night.” She says, a calm voice laced with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

Sweaty wheat hair strands rub under her jaw from his nod. “I am, because you’re right—nothing can be changed and there’s no point dwelling on it. At least we’re together now and we can take advantage of every day.” Warm lip cushions press on her collarbones. “For you, that’s something I can live with.”

 

Annie isn’t quite ready to be so forward yet and diverts her eyes, tucking sweat-dried hair behind her ear. She puts a hand over her nose from a frighteningly strong smell. “It reeks in here. I wouldn’t be surprised if they could smell us all the way from the surface.”

 

Armin nuzzles her neck like a comfortable child. “I don’t care.”

 

“ _I_ do. Now scooch off me. I can almost feel myself getting crusty.”

 

His lean arms trap her and Annie’s skin feels the moist part of his lower, inner lip peel down in a pout. “No, I’m warm and comfy here.”

 

“That’s too bad because I’m not. _Off.”_ She seethes through the closed gate of her teeth. “You’re making it too hot and I’m already sweaty enough.”

 

She fidgets beneath him, her forearms tight together like her shackles are still on as she pushes up but Armin keeps hanging on. A complaining whine akin to a small child’s vibrates in his throat.

 

“Just a couple more minutes, Love.” He compromises drowsily. “Then we’ll go get water for the shower. I promise.”

 

Annie stops moving and the hairs on the back of Armin’s neck practically shoot up from his red thermometer-rising body blush.

 

“ _What_ did you just call me?” Annie asks, enlarged grey-blue perplexed.

 

He takes his sweet time, but Armin soon lifts up from her and clears his throat. Annie wonders if it’s from nerves or to fill in the awkward silence.

 

“I-uh, I called you Love.” His first couple words come out weak whereas the next come out stronger and more confident.

 

Her surprised eyes stay wide. “Wow, you know how to jump through the hoops _fast_. Isn’t there some kind of grace period before saying that?”

 

Armin smooths his messy hair back. “It’s not like I actually _said it_ and everything has been pent up for the last five years. Give a guy a break for letting it slip a little.”

 

“Don’t give me a reason not to.”

 

Armin groans, thinking he’s run afoul of a bad territory to tread into. However, to his pleasant surprise, Annie is not struggling against him anymore. To her, it’s the first pet name he’s ever used—the first nickname, play on words, or non-mocking acknowledgement of herself that _she’s_ heard. A warm bubbly feeling boils beneath her skin.

 

“I bet you think you’re some distinguished forty-year old noble by saying that.” Annie mocks though her blush doesn’t match her barbed teasing. “You only had five years to mature, not physically grow older than me.”

 

“Like I said, five years bottles up a lot of things. Don’t be surprised if there’s more.”

 

It’s Annie’s turn to groan embarrassingly. She twirls over to lay on her stomach, pushing a pillow over her head to hide her face and Armin can only grin.

 

He doesn’t care that she’s shy about her new pet name, doesn’t give a good god damn if even his friends won’t like it because saying something so simple never felt so freeing and he’s so _happy_ saying it. He hasn’t been this elated since the glory days of his childhood and mind-blowingly enough, Armin finds this happiness to be a little bit higher than even back then.

 

Lifting up his upper half, Armin’s attention drifts to a large spot on the bed Annie has rolled passed. Heat prickles his face, a little embarrassed that his spontaneity may have ruined her favorite bunk. Looking at the dry puddle of their shared arousal hangs another shadow over Armin, something far worse than his shy embarrassment.

 

“Annie...with everything going on, we haven’t been careful.” Armin says, his mouth suddenly becoming dry. “I’ve never pulled out and it’s been sometime since the dungeon. Do you...do you think that- “

 

“No.”

 

Armin is startled by such a quick, hollow response. “How can you be so sure?”

 

“Because I can’t.”

 

Nerves make foul roots in his brain again and Armin swallows thickly from the sensation. He asks carefully, “What do you mean you can’t?”

 

Annie transfers her body from her belly to her side, aiming her back at him. “Female warriors are spayed once they are chosen. The Marleyians can’t risk a prized possession falling pregnant. So, they get rid of the problem entirely by removing our reproductive organs.”

 

The enlargement of Armin’s eyes shows petrified confusion. “But won’t they just grow back once you take the Titan power? All the burns I had from before were healed, even some old scars. Shouldn’t that count for lost organs too?”

 

“Possibly. But based off what the Research Society’s doctors told me, females are born with a definite number of eggs. If they’re removed from me, I highly doubt I can reproduce those simply because I heal.” Flesh grooves form between Annie’s brows. “Plus, they’ve had more than enough test subjects to perfect the procedure. All the female candidates I studied about didn’t have children after eating their predecessor. To protect the first surgery, they must have found some method that helps us stay neutered.”

 

Armin stares down at her, mouth agape and cloudy ocean blue horror-stricken.

 

Controlled, commanded, and neutered. These were the forces hovering over Annie’s already damaged psyche for years and he can’t imagine what it’s like to lose such basic human things, slides over along the furry blankets and wraps concerned arms around her to tell her that. His mother wasn’t there to tell him what civilian women did— that childbearing is the greatest gift and curse and how often times they’ve seen, no matter if one wants to have children or not, that being stripped of the power pulls sanity down that much lower for powerful, primal reasons.

 

Seeing Annie go out of her way to shield how she’s feeling pulls at Armin heartstrings. He kisses the back of her neck and ridge of her shoulder, hoping it will loosen the tension he spots shifting beneath. Absorbing this as he tends to her takes his thoughts back to Historia who must be feeling cursed with a duty to bear children, but it’s always been his secret hope that despite their circumstances, she can grow to love the child, know that she has a gift some women don’t.

 

But maybe that’s what makes everything all the more painful, he realizes—about how when you love something intentionally or unintentionally and want to protect them, uncontrollable forces make you let them go and let life hurt them anyway. He had to do it, Annie did, and Historia may have to. He shivers at the very thought.

 

Annie can just about hear the bees of thought buzzing in Armin’s head and wants to swat his cheek to knock it off, but she leaves him be. She likes being quiet like this, where her back is protected and warm, her body guarded by such a dependable man, the itch to keep her guard up doesn’t need to be scratched.

 

“Annie,” Armin’s cautious voice calls her attention. “I can’t help but wonder. If...if the Maryelians didn’t do that to you or even if the Curse wasn’t imposed on both of us, would you…?”

 

She knows what he’s asking.

 

“No.” She responds too quickly for Armin’s comfort. A rapier of disappointment sinks deep into the middle of his chest.

 

The blond woman’s small form flips around so she’s facing the man whose lips appear unsteady and brows are in sad, upturned arches. Her hand draws thoughtful circles over the solid pillows of his pecs, tingling there like a healing salve on his ghost wound.

 

“Even if I could, it’s not that I wouldn’t want them with you, either.” Annie claims, keeping her eyes away. “I just...couldn’t. Not when the world is this way, not when they could go through what I did or worse now. In another timeline where times aren’t so horrid...maybe…” she trails off.

 

Armin’s pulse picks up. “Maybe…?” He leads her to continue.

 

A laugh both entertained and condescending shakes her pallid shoulders. “Again, _if_ I wanted them—and that’s a big if—, I’d make you do me again even after twenty times just to make sure you got the job done right.”

 

The young soldier’s cheeks are hurting from all his grinning today; that detail and tone is Annie-speak for yes—even if it was only in another time and place—she would have a family if she could, a family with him, and his fitness-hardened arms hold her tighter. Just the knowledge that she would lifts his heart a little higher.

 

They can’t enjoy that route of life here, he’s come to terms with that now, but hopefully—if miracles are an actual thing despite his better judgement—their Queen can before it’s too late.

 

“We should probably head back soon.” Armin says, the time that has passed by dawning on him. “I can’t tell how long it’s been since I came down here. For all I know, it’s been a day. I think they deserve an update.”

 

“Wait.” Annie takes hold of his shoulders. “We still don’t know how they’re going to react.”

 

“Better now than never then.” He replies while sitting up.

 

A vexed noise clicks in Annie’s mouth. Her forearms loop around his neck and tug him so he’s hovering over her, his knees now resting at each side of her waist, “It’s not that. Their heads could explode with anger and I wouldn’t care. It’s that you’ve taken too long and they’re not daring enough to come see what we’re doing. They must know or suspect what we’re doing. For all I know, they might bar you from coming back down here and…” Graceful fingers push away thin strands hanging in his face. “I don’t want that. If we’re going to go back up, then before we do, I want to look at you this time. Just one more time and we’ll go.”

 

Thoughtful azure take in Annie’s plea. She meant every word, hopes he can hear the genuine worry and care in her voice alone and _god_ , Annie has never been more hopeful on him saying yes. She’s still keyed up from their last time and whether she’s barren or not, her tubes were growing blue from being disconnected from him for too long.

 

A jet of thoughtful air leaves Armin. “Well, we’ve had a good track record of no one walking in so far. One more time can’t hurt.”

 

Annie smiles coyly, a sight so rare and alluring, steam could fizz and pop out Armin’s scalp right now. “I agree. I’ll be jealous too—they’ll have a better view of your backside then I will.”

 

A light blush like a native paint markings highlights the space beneath Armin’s eyes. Annie scoffs. “Don’t tell me _that_ embarrasses you. Not after everything we’ve done.” Her hand ensnares his length’s base in a vice-like hold, the motion minorly quirking the side of Armin’s mouth. “Even holding you like this is second nature to me now.”

 

Armin shakes his head. “Wasn’t embarrassed about what you said at all. If they _do_ see us, I’m just curious about what they’ll say to seeing me getting you on your back.”

 

Red illuminates her sun-starved cheeks. “And what makes you so sure it’ll be _me_ on my back this time?” She challenges.

 

Cerulean orbs gaze down coolly at searching crystal, as if hinting she already knows why. He draws his chin up with pride for dramatic effect, the borders of his mouth nearly a spiral from confidence.

 

 _Oh,_ that _arrogant_ little—

 

 _“_ You _are_ a little shit.” Annie hisses out with the faintest of curling side-smiles. “Screw picking fluffy pet names, I’m sticking with that one for you.”

 

“Whatever my Love wants.”

 

“Oh, fuck off with that.”

 

Annie collects his cheeks between a forefinger and thumb and with a quick yank, unites their lips. Their mouths move powerfully against one another, tongues flicking and dancing through jaws bobbing up and down, side to side. He groans from her fingertips long-stride pets on his cock, coaxing the young soldier back into a maddening hardness. A string of saliva connects them when their lips part and breaks when Armin bends down, nipping and sucking at her neck to bring back the hickeys she’s steamed away. Annie’s cute little yelp from all his nips and hands brushing her sides brings a satisfied grin to Armin’s face but sharp-edged alarm shoots through his veins when Annie pushes up and crunches the side of his neck, her sharp incisors nearly drawing blood.

 

“H-Hey!” Armin sputters out, startled. “What was that for?!”

 

Sly, pink lips lovingly kiss the red-bitemark she leaves behind. “You’ve been through worse.”

 

 _That’s_ the final straw and Armin doesn’t waste time in grappling her back down to the bed, her letting him with a light expectant smile. Her spread legs twitch when his drooling tip aims at her entrance and sinks in, Armin’s size spreading her lips as he moves and her body opens, the slide so pulsing hot and thick and deep it all makes Annie’s world _complete_ again. His hands threaded through hers and laying on the sides of her head are soothingly heated, clenches them tighter when hard, slow thrusts start plowing into her. Wetness already leaks out the borders where they are joined and Armin bends down, sucking hungrily over each flushed, perky nipple, not following any rhythm, not giving her a moment of rest from overflowing pleasure.

 

Annie whines feebly. She doesn’t like laying here doing nothing, doesn’t like that she can’t run her hands over his muscled back or shoulder blades, can hardly pick herself up to kiss him. He gets to touch her and she wants to touch him.

 

A powerful buck against Armin’s thrust throws him off guard for a second and Annie quickly wriggles out from Armin’s taken aback grip, cups his jaw and pulls him down into a fierce kiss. Her thighs squeeze tightly at his sides and momentum and a firm back propels them upward so quick to switch positions that once they reach sitting-upright, solid wood boards thwack the back of his head and her forehead.

 

“Shit!” “Ow!” They shout out in sync. Annie’s lips peel down into a snarl, peering angrily at the wood board ceiling of the bunk bed. As Armin plops down on his back, rubbing his aching scalp, Annie slips off her ride and pushes him down to the floor with the covers toppling after him.

 

Her legs descend over the bedside, snarling, “What a pain. It’s like these damn things were purposefully put in to keep people from fucking.”

 

Armin makes a sore noise down below, his legs sticking up in the air with his body tangled in bedsheets.

 

“Why am _I_ always the one getting pushed around?” Armin grumbles from the floor. His bangs are curled back, exposing his forehead wrinkling from irritation. “This gets annoying after a while.”

 

“Because your body is too slow.” The eager woman walks over, kicking away the pesky bedsheet. She yanks his legs open, sliding sweltering hands on lean, fair thighs until she’s stapled him to the floor by his hips. She sneers like a haughty conqueror over him. “Exhibit A.”

 

Armin supports himself up with his arms behind his back, frowning childishly. “You caught me off guard.”

 

“No, my body just reacts better than yours.” She smoothly shoots back. “But we can compete on whose better at this.”

 

Armin’s jaw slackens when soft lips fasten over the base of his anxious sex, breathing a humid cloud over the space. Annie’s increasingly skilled mouth draws a line with her tongue between his testicles, turns her head-sideways and slurps up one, sucking around the ball gently, all of which evokes a flurry of stuttering gasps from Armin. Her tongue’s wet stripe follows a vein’s path up until she reaches his engorged tip, taking him into the wet pocket of her mouth eagerly. His hands balling bedsheets below are added to his pleased moans as she adds suction to his tip.

 

The groaning soldier is enthralled at how strands of bleached blonde hang over her face, lust-drowned eyes focused and keen on finding his pleasure. Even her hands are soothingly warm on his thighs, massaging pleasant circles in his muscles. Still, Armin can’t help flushing the tiniest bit when he hears the louder wet sounds clapping against his skin, her nursing of his aching pole growing more focused and stronger as hard pink-red disappears and reappears between her glistening lips.

 

Her trek down laps up the not-entirely unpleasant mixture of both their tastes—a musky flavor with undertones of bitter salt—and it piques Annie’s interest. She’s eager to wipe his special tool clean, housing him warmly in her mouth as every suck undulates her tongue back and forth on the underside of his lip-enclosed length.

 

“I’m not- _uun-_ I’m not going to last long if you keep doing this.” Armin warns breathlessly, one eye pinched closed. Her zeal is flattering, but the pleasure spring in his stomach is coiling unbearably tighter and tighter.

 

His erection slips from her lips. Annie kisses the red twitching shaft that’s left her a screaming mess before and with her plans, will do so again many times. “Can’t have that now.”

 

Annie quickly hops onto the soldier’s waiting lap and his hands are quick to pull her hips closer him, sliding skillful palms and digits over her sides and soft, toned rear, all of his caresses in tandem of her rising up from her folded knees. Clutching his blazing hot staff in thirst-trembling hands, Annie lines Armin up with her dripping entrance and slides him into her hot sleeve again. Like strong magnets, their pelvises clash together quick and hard, leaving the two soldiers filled to the brim with each other as a duet of breathless groans follows suit.

 

She grips all of him tightly again, always hot and snug; he stretches her wonderfully and stores himself deeper than she ever could imagine. Annie grips his shoulders, supporting herself to lift up as he latches to her hips, sure to always follow wherever she goes. Then she stops.

 

For two long seconds, Annie looks down at him and Armin up at her, twin vibrant blues flooded with want and deep thought staring deep into each other. A switch in the two young shifters turns on and their bodies finally move; they are slow, steady, rutting a controlled roll of hips into each other. A soft exhale leaves them after every wave-like bounce, lowers their eyes into half-lids from sucking heat rippling against pulsating thickness.

 

Annie rests her hands under Armin’s ears so fingers intertwine behind his shaved neck, keeping his forehead against hers as he grabs the solid back of her leg, sliding and holding it back so she sits higher and tighter on him. He pumps stronger but barely faster throughout her cresting into his lap, a sheen of sweat from overheating coating their crimson-emitting bodies.

 

Damp disorienting heat contracts around every pleasured nerve in Armin’s sex and spears into Annie’s wet tunnel. Their foreheads rarely depart, only flinch back barely when Armin pushes up to sink into her deeper, lips always hovering over the other’s but never touching. The young man’s muscles tremble as he grunts, overcome from the sensations overloading his body.

 

“Annie…” He groans. He pushes into her harder, his forehead puckered from focus rubbing against her perspiring one. “ _Annie_ , you always feel so _good…”_

 

His deep thrust crashes his tip into her cervix and it leaves Annie a gasping, reeling mess, the edges of her world flickering with white light

 

“ _Oh,_ and you always know where to _hit.”_ She praises breathlessly, digging shaking fingers into the back of his neck.

 

She drops and Armin rocks forward anxiously to meet her, hitting each sensitive, squishy spot she needs him. Strained, needy moans leave her as Armin leaves open-kisses in the middle of her chest, laves so slowly over the space before transitioning to her breast and sucking a captive nipple. It’s taking all Annie’s focus to not reach her peak before him so she occupies herself with nipping the side of his neck, slowly clawing over his chest and shoulders, barely keeping the heat pressuring tight in her core at bay.

 

“ _Armin…”_. She moans. Her body bends back from his torso leaning into her, arms pulling her legs back as tight as he can, working tirelessly to bring them both over the edge. “Oh, _Armin.”_

 

Armin thrusts more erratically and her slapping drops react the same. They’re over-sensitive and quick to burst, a few more hard collisions and they’ll make it. Hot hands rub Armin’s chest and simmer on each spot like she’s left a flaming imprint, Annie calls his name, and Armin claps his hips harder into her battered pelvis until finally, he comes undone.  

 

Hot feverish waves crash over him with a deep sigh, his final deep thrust snapping into action another orgasm inside Annie too, leaving them to finish through smooth hard thrusts and low, breathy gasps. As the flood of orgasm dies down to trickle down their thighs, Annie notices they’ve reached their peak much more quietly and calmly than they have in their last few rolls in the hay. The bomb rattling anxiously in their cores wasn’t painfully tight or desperate to be unleashed this time, but rather, soothingly unleashed quick, pleasant currents in them without the bone-rattling pleasure impact. Annie wonders why that is.

 

She slumps over Armin, resting her red face on his pink shoulder. Her chest pressed on his senses his heart calming down like hers is. He’s complimented her outside these physical connections, given her a loving nickname too; the least she can do is give him something more than praises said during sex. The socially-deprived woman doesn't quite know how it works, but she searches for something that’s true.

 

 “You always know what I need and more.” Annie sighs. Her hands work an oscillating massage on the back of his shoulder-blade. “It’s like you have a sixth sense—I’d hope so too after all of our go’s lately.”

 

Annie winces into his neck. She hadn’t meant to come across as teasing—or _sappy,_ mostly— but more often than not, Armin passes her expectations in hitting everywhere she wants him, in both body and mind. A doubt in the back of her head mocks that he deserves more than her who struggles with little things like giving compliments, much more. She nervously looks up to see if Armin’s eyes tell her that he agrees with the voice.

 

Her side-glance through a crack in her loose hair see him gazing down through lazy-lids. He smiles lightly and her back a little. He wants to say those golden words to her, but he doesn’t—not because he’s nervous or because Annie won’t return his feelings, but because for now, he sees she’s only comfortable with letting the saying twinkle in her frozen lake gaze.

 

Annie kisses Armin’s cooled cheek. “Give me a few minutes to find a needle and thread. I’ll get my hoodie and sew the patch on. They may get the message then and we won’t have to say much else.”

 

It’s a little too optimistic but worth trying. Annie does exactly what she says a few minutes later, black thread strands now locking tight the Wings of Freedom on the fabric over her heart, matching the one on his green coat. As they dress and exit the barracks, Armin’s focus is locked on the cave’s ceiling and walls as they walk. Jagged bulges of blue lead up the road until they begin slogging up the inclined path to the surface and Armin sees how craters are left behind from where rock had been purged.

 

His hyperactive mind whirrs, recognizing that the cultivated pockets look like holes left behind by what the outside world calls mines. He’s seen glimpses of past and now current warfare, how bombs are encapsulated in metal capsules and hidden beneath the earth, waiting to unleash a lethal blast.

 

Armin tears his eyes away and sucks in a deep breath.

 

Why did everything around him have to remind him of the minefield they’re walking into right now?

 

* * *

 

It’s colder than Annie remembers—outright _freezing_. She huddles close to Armin and him to her, both acting as walls against the brisk winds as she keeps her hands in her pockets and his under his pits.

 

Once they reach the mouth of the cave, the drawn down teeth of the metal portcullis blocks their exit. Armin blinks in confusion. The unblocked, frosty air nearly numbs his entire face when the thick gate is centimeters from his nose. He sees through the iron squares how the setting sun barely peeks through a misty sky, how snow mounds scattered on the white ground are larger than Armin remembers with the surrounding pine and oak tree’s branches overburdened by a heftier weight of snow.

 

“So, you finally decided to show up.” A gruff voice calls out. Jean reveals himself from the corner, a fire barely alive with life resting nearby. The borders and insides of his coat are thicker from full, brown animal fur having been packed and sewn into his coat. “And they called me a selfish bastard. You just might take my medal, Armin, what with you taking your sweet time in there while we’re sitting here freezing our asses off.”

 

A reflex to step forward jolts Annie’s calf but Armin’s determined, unbending stance lets both Jean and her know that he won’t be guilted so easily.

 

“Don’t be a drama queen.” A voice which speeds up Annie’s heart says. “The skins from the bison have been keeping us plenty warm and the worst of the storm is over.” Wearing the same garb as Jean, Hitch trudges through the snow to stand next to him. When she makes it to her frowning comrade, the brunette slaps his arm with makeshift fur gloves. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

 

Jean snorts. “Okay, you can sew. Hooray. You’ll be a great mistress yet.” His glove of tied fabric around his palms with a fur covering rubs under his red-tipped nose. “Besides, it’s not all that great. I can’t wear my maneuver gear in this because it snags like crazy and I can barely hold my rifle with these gloves. But with you being more into stupid fashion than being a fighter, you probably aren’t concerned with important issues like that.”

 

Hitch holds out her hand. “Alright, give the coat back then if you’re going to be that way. See how you fare in the cold with only your wimpy fire to help you.”

 

A predatory growl rattles behind Jean’s snarl. “ _Hitch,_ your timing on being a pain is just as shit as your cooking. Back. Off.”

 

“Okay _,_ fine.” Hitch rolls her eyes, looks at her two caged squad mates and pumps a thumb at Jean. “Mr. Always-Serious here has a bone to pick with you.”

 

Balls of brown escape the head-shaking Hitch to zero in on Annie, her new piece of clothing and the Wings of Freedom patch grabbing his attention. Hot air jets through his nostrils from harsher breathing. “Just because you wear our symbol doesn’t make you one of us.”

 

“It doesn’t.” Annie affirms vacantly. “But I’ll wear it if I want to.”

 

“Even if your entire team hates you? The entire Eldian population too?”

 

Hitch makes a face before Annie responds, “That’s to be expected. I pledged myself to the symbol, I’ll wear the symbol. Everyone else doesn’t matter and is nothing but chatter in the background to me.”

 

Anger-quivering brown and controlled grey marble engage in a glare battle once again. Jean flickers his attention to Armin.

 

“Armin.” Jean calls to him, his tone deathly serious. “All you have to do is answer one question. None of us are dumb and the walk over here was more than enough for me to see that there’s something more than pleasant fraternizing going on between you two.” An emotion Armin can’t place refracts over Jean’s eyes. “My question to you is this: will you still fight with us or are you too busy being intimate with someone still flagged as a potential enemy?”

 

“Both.” Armin responds without so much as a pause. He isn’t going to fall for such a stupid, half-assed question.

 

“You can’t _be_ both.” Jean stresses through gritted teeth.

 

“I’ve figured out a lot of things and I’ll figure out how to juggle both of you. You know me well enough to know that I can.”

 

“And how do I know that she isn’t manipulating you in some way? Your Titan shit is weird and I don’t know what other tricks you guys have up your sleeves. Having you under her thumb must be a bonus for her, too.”

 

Armin shares with Jean a semi-insulted squint of eyes. “Annie is too forward to be good at any form of lying and you know that. So, no. She isn’t manipulating me. Now my question to _you_ is who did you get your own ideas from for the strategizing of manipulation, Jean? And where does everyone else in the Survey Corp know where to find the one person who is the best?”

 

It’s him and the quiet filler between everyone suggests that they know fakes and future troubles are always seen through Armin’s forever-explorative eyes in the end.

 

Jean’s brows tipped with powdered frost furrow. “Am I wrong to think then that you’ve chosen her instead of us?”

 

“Yes. Just because I’ve taken a lover doesn’t make me any less on your side. I’ll work with you just like Annie promised to.”

 

Annie’s lucky where she stands is fairly dark because she’s never flushed this furiously in her life, _especially_ publicly. Armin says the word lover so candidly, she has to pretend to scratch her face and appear to find a rocky wall interesting to hide her blood-red cheeks.

 

Brown orbs stay focused on Armin before being closed off. “I don’t doubt your dedication but with your admission of being romantic with the enemy, you leave me no choice. As Squad Leader, I will issue orders to my subordinates to keep you confined in this cave until further orders are given. You’ll be consulted on tactical approaches but not upon your own request. This gate will stay down, all supplies will be provided to you, and you will be guarded around the clock. Once I receive word from Hange and Levi, I’ll notify them of your treachery.”

 

“ _Jean,”_ Hitch tugs at his thick shoulder sleeve, her features nervous. “You can’t be serious.”

 

“I am.” He declares resolutely. “If this is the path Armin wants to follow, fine. But the Corps has a response too and this is it.” He looks on Hitch suspiciously. “And because I have no proof of you helping him, I can’t toss you in there with them. Although, it is strange to see you so concerned. Are you giving me proof now?”

 

“ _Fuck_ you, Jean! You just locked up two of us so what kind of moron would I be if I wasn’t concerned?!” She shoves the tall man. “Damn it, I thought you might actually be some upstanding guy too. Were you actually listening to Floch’s garbage all along? Because to _me,_ you’re acting like his stupid fascist cult lings!”

 

“You never did understand what it means to be a soldier. I don’t expect you to now.”

 

“Your honor and your tenacity can eat shit for all I care. Just let them _out_!”

 

Annie stays as a worried, engrossed bystander as Hitch hammers harsh words and more shoves onto the unmoving squad leader. Armin joins Annie, the bitter disappointment toward Jean staring at him so menacingly needling into his chest. Through Hitch’s yelling and Jean’s glowering, the stabbing emotions in Armin halt, an unconscious analysis sinking in.

 

Jean’s determined eyes are muddy with clashing emotions flowing through it, like his face is firmly creased in desire to be angry but the flare doesn’t reach his eyes. The needles in Armin’s chest melt into a lukewarm flood of realization.

 

He has been locked in with his admitted lover and has been told there will be no way he is leaving with everything to be provided for them. Jean has maintained the image of a soldier doing his duty but the two men’s strong bonds built through pain and understanding has let Jean know that Armin hates being away from Annie.

 

Jean is either a true leader able to confront his closest of friends or the best friend a man could ask for by doing this to him. Or—much like Armin’s own answer—he’s both _._

 

“ _Fuck!”_ A loud voice yells close by. “Fuck, Fuck, _Fuck!”_

 

A metal anchor whizzes by, latching onto the rocky space above the descended portcullis. The fur-poncho covered body of Connie zips through the air, boots clopping onto the frozen stone upon landing.

 

“What the hell did you do?!” Jean yells.

 

A guttural roar answers Jean. A raging Bison crashes through the green cloud line of bushes across the open forest space, pitch-black eyes fixed on the buzzed haired man. Two more Bison standing seven feet high erupt from the bushes, radiating the same vicious anger. Jean and Hitch’s backs straighten in alarm.

 

“Fuck it all, Connie. I told you to get dinner not piss it off!” Jean barks.

 

“Those three weren’t there before and I used the bow to be quiet like you said to do!” Connie reasons fearfully, a cold-sweat on the sides of his face. “I swear! They might have been a part of the same herd as my kill and came charging when they saw me harvesting!”

 

Two bison heads bow, leading into a horn-tipped charge and adrenaline pumps, sparking alive a determined soldier’s training. Jean jumps for his rifle resting against the cave’s side, Connie falls down and flies back up with Hitch cradled in his arms while Armin is yanked back right when horns and a solid head crash and clang against the iron gate. Armin—once standing deathly close to the squared bars where two sets of sharp horns now pull away from—winces, his arm throbbing like it’s been dislocated. Annie stands in front of him, thumb flesh pinched between her teeth in preparation for the worst.

 

Jean sprints away from the remaining Bison whose hooves clop into a charge, cursing while trying to load his rifle. Annie’s teeth shift to chomp hard, the fuming animal locks on Jean and as he raises his rifle, Mikasa swoops in. He is scooped up underneath her arm—much to his loud discontent—and the two swing into a white-dusted branch to the right of the cave’s opening. Once Jean sits comfortably, a vein of irritation pulses on his forehead.

 

“Connie, you fucking _liar_. I see an arrow in all of their asses! You got ambitious again! Or you _missed!”_

 

Connie’s mouth flops, panicked and searching for an answer while Jean takes aim again. Mikasa’s palm pushing down on the gun’s freezing muzzle stops him.

 

“We’ve brought enough attention to ourselves, don’t make more.” Mikasa instructs calmly. “We still don’t know if anyone is around us.”

 

As Jean stares and reluctantly obeys, Mikasa unsheathes her swords hidden beneath her poncho. With the bison prowling in a line along the snow, clanging impatient heads into the portcullis to reach those inside and Connie, metal spears from Mikasa’s maneuver gear eject straight-ahead, latching into the middle of the rocky structure. A blast of air shoots her forward, the Ackerman morphing into a twirling, razor-tipped tornado which cuts so quick and fast through the air, arcs of blood and shredded fur limbs are all that’s left in her path. Mikasa flips mid-air and halts herself with a tip of her foot on the iron gate. The two metal ropes keeping her up retract into swirling pulleys as she jumps back and lands into red-white snow.

 

The new couple could only stare powerlessly through the metal bars. The elite fighter quickly swiped her swords down to flick off thicker streams of blood. She glances up at Connie. “Looks like we have jerky for the next couple of weeks. Come down here and collect it so we can hang it. It only seems fair after you lead them here.”

 

Connie nose and mouth twitch from a gross penance he’s unhappy to perform but he complies. He descends, placing Hitch and himself in the bed of snow as Jean hops off his branch.

 

“You saved me!” Hitch applauds theatrically. She jumps like a dramatic, saved princess into Mikasa’s waiting arms, the taller girl’s face blank and aimed forward. “I just knew you’d come to our little ol’ rescue! Knew it, knew it, _knew it_!”

 

Everyone is not biting on her bad attempt at acting, greatly displeasing Hitch. She pouts and aims her sights to where Mikasa is looking.

 

The brunette’s features wobble. She then explodes into a series of snickers and evil laughs like a vicious bully discovering a cruel new nickname while Mikasa raises her chin. Confused, Armin looks down.

 

Annie grabbed his hand when she yanked him back and is still holding it with the tightest of iron grips. Just as confused, she looks back and sees Armin staring at their joined hands.

 

From the cave emerged a new species of people painted blood-red from the tips of their toes to the tops of their heads and the Survey Corp members are witnesses to its thin population: Armin and Annie.

 

Embarrassed, reflex makes Annie want to throw Armin’s hand back at him with the enthusiasm of a petulant child tossing a swing, but she doesn’t. Instead, her red face purses her lips, continuously clutching Armin’s hand with averted eyes. Hitch guffaws so hard and loud, one hand clutches her stomach whereas the other grabs straight bangs on a head that's thrown back. Mikasa only stares, Connie’s eyes flitter to them and to the meat he harvests, unsure of what to think whereas Jean helps cultivate their hunt, pretending to ignore them.

 

“You guys say you’re intimate and then you blush at something as vanilla as _that!”_ Hitch laughs loudly. She has to gasp a couple of times to retrieve breath. “Oh my _god_ , you guys really don’t know anything, do you? You’re like two five-year olds with a crush.”

 

“ _Shut up.”_ Jean scolds her from the ground. “There could be enemy scouts nearby. You want to expose us?”

 

“Mikasa will come by and save the day if so.” Hitch extends to the Ackerman a playful wink. “Right, black-hair goddess?”

 

Annie, Armin, and Mikasa hear Hitch’s and Jean’s arguing, but they’re too focused on each other. For the first time, Mikasa stares at the two of them together with no wary, peevish look. It’s a lighter exchange, onyx eyes peeking through black bangs a tad at ease.

 

“Interesting…” Mikasa muses softly.

 

“What?” Hitch inquires.

 

Black orbs roll to Hitch, the faintest crack of a smile twitching her lips. “Nothing.”

 

Mikasa drops the brunette—her yelp from surprise at her sudden drop and rump sinking into the wet snow. The two soldiers gather what they can from the beasts before Mikasa rotates around and walks back to the outpost, Jean and Connie at her side. She fusses about with something beneath her fur poncho and slings it over her back: the wooden crescent of a bow and an empty quiver of arrows.

 

Hitch’s eyes stare intently then after mental gears churn for a moment, she begins to smolder. “Hold on, you were out with Connie too. Was it actually _you_ who brought the bison here?!” Hitch swings her fists down so they are fixed at her sides, already judging Mikasa before she can respond. “What the hell is wrong with you?! I could have been speared to death and so could have Jean! And for what? Some beast whose remnants will just sit out in the cold?!”

 

“You were never in any real danger.” Mikasa responds tranquilly. “You had me to come save you and the others would if I wasn’t here.” Scanning eyes look back to the gate barring the cave. “Right, Annie?”

 

Annie’s free hand clenches. She smells a test of loyalty constructed unbeknownst to everyone except the three walking away, searching if Annie—even when kept within a barrier of protection—would act on saving Armin, would even bother to save the others in peril around her. The faintest drop of life seen in more recently empty eyes leads Annie to believe she passed or has given Mikasa a little hope...for now.

 

“Mikasa!” Armin darts forward, clutching the deathly-cold iron bars. His passion to talk to her pushes, tugs, and uselessly attempts to spread apart the squared gate, but he can’t. The only way to get through is to transform and he’s not so stupid as to light a mushroom cloud flare to the world on where they are hiding.

 

Hitch walks forward, the ends of her brows down-turned woefully. “Sorry, Armin. Somehow the pole is up Jean’s ass even farther today, but I have to do what he says. I want you to be happy too, but…this _is_ the route it has to go down with your choice. I don’t like it either but…that’s how it is.”

 

No one is ecstatic about this and Annie shuffles the gravel side to side with boots still too large for her small feet, hiding her face. Armin is the only one who is not hunched over from misery but displaying a back straightened from intense resolution.

 

“Makes sense to me but I hope Jean doesn’t expect me to say I do or I will regret any of this.” The young man says decidedly. “I don’t and I won’t. I’ll make this work. I’ll sit out here in the cold until it’s time for Mikasa’s watch if that’s what I have to do. It’s not like I’ll die.”

 

Surprised amber and geyser-blue orbs are fixed on the man onlooking into the white-green cloud forest. Hitch allows a smirk to rise.

 

“Quite the confidence in you, Armin.” Hitch admires, a trace a mockery never leaving her voice. “Almost a little scary.”

 

It’s after a long pause with winter winds ruffling the hair on their faces when Annie puts a foot forward. “Armin, go start a bath.” She orders like she’s bored. “It’s cold and musky down there and the stench from the mine isn’t helping you out.”

 

A slow turn of Armin neck over to her says he’s both confused and minorly offended, but more so confused. He takes the hint from a quick dart of her eyes from Hitch to him.

 

“Got it. But remember, you’re not smelling so great yourself. I’ll make sure one is ready for you too.”

 

A death twinkle in Annie’s eye shines like the brightest star in the sky and Hitch giggles behind the back of her hand. Armin lets a small smile curl his lip before trekking back down into the deep black of the cave.  

 

“ _Musky, eh?”_ Hitch purrs with a seductress’s smirk. “I hope you mean because of the dead creatures in there with you, Annie. You have a boyfriend now so I’m inclined to believe it’s not.” A pensive tune echoes in the back of her throat. “Does that mean you have a few new tricks for me? I’ve missed you too and these bars are just _barely_ keeping me away.”

 

A hiss of breath plumes out Annie’s lips. “I never bought the siren act, Hitch. There’s no need to act like that around me. There never was.”

 

Hitch lips pull down and hip tilts to the side. “Hmm, an act? That’s quite an accusation. You seem to forget that you and I have never _officially_ hung out. How would you ever know about how I actually am?”

 

“I can smell people who are just as horrible at lying as I am and you’re one of them. But unlike me, you just use your teasing as a way to side-step everything.”

 

Genuine annoyance teeters back and forth on the brunette’s lips. “You know, I volunteered to sit on an ass slowly turning into ice because I wanted to see you, not hear about all your so-called dissections about me. I actually thought about you while you were gone and Armin isn’t the only one who stuck their neck out for you. _Some_ kind of appreciation would be nice.”

 

Annie can only sigh and close her eyes in self-chastisement. This whole pleasant conversation thing is still so new and just because she’s five years older doesn’t mean she’s past her sixteen-year-old behavior.

 

“Sorry.” Is all Annie can manage and even that is enough to raise the fine hair-lines above Hitch’s eyes. Her hooded back slides against the metal bars until her rump settles on gravel as cold as the freezing snow.

 

It’s an odd move to Hitch, wrinkles the side of her face as she ponders what Annie is doing. The blonde girl isn’t so sure herself but is inevitably answered when another back slides down the metal bars, both of their bodies parted by thick, glacially-cold iron.

 

“Armin told me everything.” Annie prefaces mournfully. “About Marley, Shiganshina...you...”

 

Hitch makes a derisive huff. “How rude. I would think he would ask me first before spilling all my dirty secrets to anyone else.”

 

“You didn’t let me finish.”

 

“Why? What is there more to even say? Almost everyone from the old regiment is dead, staying in the walls isn’t safe anymore, and the world is going to shit. Want me to sing that tune for you again?”

 

The young prisoner blinks. Hitch is not being completely direct with her, something which is odd to Annie. She sounds like she’s trying to dodge her curiosity entirely, but the military woman’s tone tells Annie she wants someone to find her sadness.

 

As the Titan shifter gazes on toward the cracks rifting the cavern walls, the threads of understanding stitch and come together tighter in her.

 

Hitch hides behind a mask—a different mask from Annie’s but it’s a smokescreen all the same—and leaves only breadcrumbs for people she finds truly interesting to pick up. To Annie, this whole ordeal is already exhausting and confusing and quite honestly, a pain in her ass, but now she sees why Armin was so dead set on her—how for some people, it’s worth the painstaking effort to poke and prod and express care but only get pellets of information in return. Despite her continued silence, side-glances, and non-answers toward their curiosities to her, care has mysteriously established itself in all of them. Her shell has been pierced without her knowledge but it isn’t unpleasant for Annie to find out that the bud of care in her has flowered further and wants to try and extend what Hitch and Armin tried to do for her on them.

 

“One thing didn’t make sense to me.” Annie says gently. “It always looked like you were looking for something more rather than just a good time when you left on our days off. Even when you showed me your tally in how many people you’ve slept with, you didn’t seem satisfied. Not from the number but…from something. It’s been a long time since then. Did you ever find it?”

 

Hitch is quiet before responding. “I’m not used to you talking so much. I’m starting to think you caused this bad weather by making hell freeze over.”

 

“Don’t feel like you have to answer me if you don’t want to. I was only telling you what I saw. I could be wrong.”

 

Silence again. “I did find it, but it took me too long to figure out where they were.”

 

Annie sadly fills in the void, even though Hitch must feel like she’s making it so clear. “Marlowe...?”

 

A light dusting of snow falls over the brunette’s blocked face. “He was always such a righteous, pretentious, stupid _idiot.”_ She spits out acidly.  “I still don’t get it. I don’t know why it had to be him.”

 

Annie doesn’t either and to her, these unspoken bonds that were forged are so stupidly inconvenient and wonderful and doomed to curse their species for a millennium more, _if_ they make it that far.

 

The blond prisoner sits, not knowing what else to say, searches desperately for it in the underworked problem-solving parts of her brain where ideas to comfort are born. With a spider’s legs grace, Annie’s fingers crawl through the snow and thick metal square of the gate. Annie slides her pale hand over Hitch’s unmoving one, closing her fingers around a person she truly could call a friend.

 

Hitch doesn't move or say a word. She tilts her head back so her nose points to the sky, struggling peace and mockery blended into one smile. “I always knew you were a softie.” She mocks through a cracked voice.

 

A quip rolls around on Annie’s tongue and she swishes it about in her mouth for a long few seconds. Hitch then returns her hold, gripping onto Annie so tightly, the young shifter can feel the brunette’s blood pumping through the cold bricking her skin.

 

Like so much of everything else, Annie lets her wisecrack go this time and the two women sit in silence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The below music really helped me make the scene with Hitch and Annie. I just...I ask for one more interaction with them Isayama. Pretty please ;__;
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated ^_^Hope you enjoyed!
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> [Spirited Away Piano theme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ptwcZ574blo)


	5. Homage

The ends of Annie’s thin eyebrow have never twitched so much in her life.

 

Don’t go down the edge of the cave without maneuver gear, she said.

 

We’ll need more than just a couple measly flashlights and hardhats, she said.

 

We need _rope_ or leave behind some sort of trail to help find their way back, _she said._

 

The Survey Corp’s blond prodigy is ferociously intelligent and must be so horrifically bored out of his mind, he leaps up from bed one morning, suddenly driven to take on a sudden adventure to explore every crevice of the cave. They’ve both gone on explorations during training, have been taught what needs to be gathered and what will drag them down; knowing so leaves Annie all the more amazed on _how_ Armin manages to screw up something which once was a beaten-in practice.

 

He neglects to help lay a trail of blue stone-crumbs in their wake, hypnotized by an aquamarine stone so large, the mineral sits like a chandelier lighting up the rocky, arched ceiling. Armin hops so quick atop a slanted boulder, a leather boot slips on rolling gravel and Annie swears. She drops their rock-markers and yanks him back so hard by his coat, he falls on his back next to her. If not for her, curiosity would have bought Armin a new trip in a dark pit’s stalagmite mouth.

 

With Annie pushing his back in a command to head back, what feels like hours pass. The blue path to the barracks is much dimmer than she remembers and the heavily perceptive woman’s jaw hardens. She hears vermin scuttling about this dank cave, wonders if their senses are so sharp, they detect her hate-riddled aura and reacted to it by skittering so fast past the blue pebbles she left behind, they’ve toppled into unseen cracks, erasing the path to the barracks. It certainly feels that way as what the two suspect to be half a day passes before the lake’s shimmering surface greets them again.

 

It’s one disaster after another with every journey in and out of the edges of the cavern. There’re more than enough cracked floor pockets to topple into beyond the lake—Armin discovering so by falling forward and flat on his face—and cracked edges too flimsy to step on— _she_ had to learn such a fact and cat-like reflexes shot her up to a nearby boulder to not fall into a twenty-foot drop. All of it is annoying and the couple are always covered in earthly film and dust; it’s no secret to Annie now why caves are such an unattractive hellhole.

 

Annie halts the flow of water by twisting the shower’s rusty knob. Two weeks’ worth of diving after Armin or catching themselves from falling from flimsy cliffs has left her exhausted and tested to her last nerve.

 

Finally scrubbed of dirt and sweat, Annie has the cleanliness to walk toward the wooden bathtub big enough for five and relax. Armin is already there when she steps a sore foot in warm water, floating about the tub with half a head sunk in. Bubbles boil up from his thoughtful face. The studious soldier holds his hands up out of the water then down again, treks to and fro the sides and top of the tub in search for an answer with the fervor of a crocodile searching for prey.

 

Her eyebrow twitches _again_.

 

“What are you _doing_?” Annie broaches irritably.

 

Armin’s lean torso casually comes up from the water, his youthful smile growing. “These ice-burst stones are interesting and I’ve never really had a chance to closely examine or weigh them against other rocks. Everything I’ve read about them say these were formed by volcanic calderas, but there isn’t one for miles or history of there ever being a volcano here. At least, as far as I know. I wonder if it’s because there’s more to be found below the surface? That maybe, if we went down deep enough, we might find magma underneath?” His wet head slants, examining the chunk of blue, serrated rock in his palm. “What’s your story, little fella?”   

 

The puzzled woman gives him a look having all the half-lidded enthusiasm of a slacker student stuck in ten extra minutes of a boring lecture. “Armin, it’s a rock which enables the maneuver gear to function. That’s we need to care to know.”

 

Armin makes a noise of both assent and thoughtfulness. “Sure, but _how_ and _when_ did it come to be a rock though? There’s always more and it just being a rock is boring. Nature isn’t boring. Besides, I don’t have much else to wonder about since there isn’t anything else interesting to do in this cave.”

 

The suggestive eyebrow sliding up Annie’s forehead evokes a light shudder in the young man. Delicate crimson adorns his cheeks. “I didn’t mean in _that_ way.” He defends with water splashing around his waving hands. “You _know_ I didn’t.”

 

Water claps behind Annie’s back when she leans against the tub’s wooden edge, shrugging with folded arms. “Everyone’s got an opinion. And here I was thinking I was getting better.”

 

Armin’s head reflects the image of a mask floating in water, his exposed face and lips scrunching from regret. “Annieeee, come on. That’s not funny.”

 

She _heavily_ disagrees, responding with a hissing exhale which leans more toward a laugh and scoff.

 

He is right though; they left in a rush with no books, little to no supplies and the clothes on their back as they plotted to steal a carriage. Now boredom takes over most days she can’t tell are day or night, having had too much time to gather the useless knowledge of how many wood boards are in the ceiling, how many ice-burst stones pepper the cavern’s chipped walls, and how many porno snapshots or stories are hidden in the mining crew’s shoes and mattresses.

 

Two weeks of being underground have come and gone slowly, their treasure hunt of exploring both the cave and their bodies having become dull while the other has almost become more of a routine.

 

Armin picks up other stones he found resting on a stool outside the bath. Despite herself, Annie’s almost jealous of how boyishly happy Armin has become, and by _rocks_ of all things. Brilliant blue eyes sparkle, his wet hair flattened against his pronounced sideburns and _wow,_ Annie thinks. He looks like an actual _kid_ from the beaming wonder glittering in his irises, the stress lines once marring his sweet face now cleared.

 

“See, look at this one!” His body flows smooth as butter through the water, coming up to Annie so easily and unabashed that neither flush at being this close now, especially when they’re bare to each other like this. “This one looks like it spent time in a volcano, but the nearest one isn’t for miles! This one looks like it’s from an ocean shoreline, this one almost looks like marbled, this one....” He examines it further, the tip of his finger puzzle piecing the brown bits about in his palm. “Uh-hmm, maybe this one isn’t a rock. It’s a little crumbly and... nutty-looking.”

 

Annie smacks _whatever_ he’s got in his hand out so it jumps out and topples outside the bath. “Then don’t bring it in here!”

 

“Wait!” Armin leans over the brown, furnished side. “It may have just been a conglomerate rock! I need to see it again!”

 

“Then look at it _outside_ the tub!”

 

Well-toned legs are slower beneath the water but Annie pushes against his stomach with a foot anyhow, shoving Armin so he slides along the tub’s side as his fingers scramble to pinch up the bit of crumbling rock.

 

Armin sits by her side once he gathers all the different minerals in both hands. He tries to show Annie how “neat” these breeds of earth are, raving on about how these bits from the ground may have come to be. Annie can’t help rolling her eyes, but she saves the motion for when the rock-history-telling man is not looking. This is a topic she will never be interested in yet when Armin drones on so excitedly about what he’s read and what his readings say the rock could be, she bothers to listen. Excitement hasn’t pulled so high on his face in so long; the type she gives him is blissful and full of lively curiosity, but an energetic sparkle born from a scholar’s desire shines in his eyes, not the dazzled haze of body-shaking lust.

 

Iceberg eyes become sad when she has to rob him of such a thing right now.

 

“Have we received any birds yet?” Annie makes one of her nagging thoughts known. “Or telegraphs, if the Marleyian soldiers brought that technology?”

 

Strands of yellow fall to the side from his head tilt. “Telegraph?”

 

Droplets flick off the pointed end of Annie’s finger as she bounces it up and down. “It’s a form of communication for long-distance comms using Morse Code. We stole it from an enemy nation the last time I fronted an assault, but that’s all I know. Before that, we would use typewritten letters to mask our superior’s calligraphy.”

 

Armin’s ear drips with water as he moves into a greater, interested head-tilt. “Typewritten...Morse Code? What’s that?”

 

 _Oh, right._ Annie remembers. Sometimes she forgets how severely large the gap of technological advancement is between her world and his.

 

“Never mind.” She dismisses. “Bottom-line, has anything come in lately? Does anyone have an idea of where we are?”

 

Gloominess settles into Armin’s blue pools. “No.” He responds gravely. “I asked Hitch and Hange to wipe this place off all military and government records in case our deal with Zeke went south, but who knows. One of Eren’s followers may have told Floch since there were many workers here. Levi knows about it too but we’ve heard nothing from anyone. We’re in the dark.” Fret paints over Armin’s features. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. I haven’t heard from Historia in a long time, either. She’s nearing her due date and I don’t know who is around to help her deliver.”

 

Astonishment minorly pulls up Annie’s brows. She’s always surprised when reminded of Historia’s decision and is still getting used to her name change. She’s never been close to Kr- _Historia_ , but concern has leaked into her again. The often-simpering small girl was kind to Annie, much like she was to everyone, even if it seemed like she was wearing a fake face while doing so.  

 

Well-sculpted knees draw up to Annie’s chest, a dark poison cloud hovering over her mind. Historia’s condition reminds the gloomy woman of her own biological ineptitude. She’s never wanted children, but she was never happy of being stripped of the ability either. A normal life—that’s all she ever wanted. Life is too unpredictable to tell which avenue of “normal” she will cross, but to have as many paths open helps make her dream all the more possible. But to stay in line with her duty, she submitted to being robbed of one road of potential normalcy.

 

 _It’s better this way_ , Annie mentally tells herself. A mercy has been put upon her, sure to protect herself and the kids she’ll never know. She can’t hurt them like Father hurt her and them to her when those days inevitably come.

 

….No, repeating such things in her head still does not help her feel better. If anything, the hypothetical Armin asked brings the queasiness in her gut into a nauseating, roiling boil.

 

“It’s better that I don’t have kids either. “Armin states. This time, he’s reading her thoughts. “I was raised without my parents and I was lucky to have my grandpa, even if it was for a short time. Having kids only to leave them alone and put them more worse off than I was…” He frowns deeply. “I don’t think I could do that. I’d worry about them being targets while I’m away and to be selfish...I still want to explore the world, _if_ I can.”

 

“If you’ve so clearly already made your decision, why would you even bother telling me?” Annie questions, venom she doesn’t mean to be there lacing her tone.

 

Water ripples around Armin’s body from his impassive shrug. “Just thought you should know.”

 

Could be, should be, would be. _Ugh,_ she’s getting so sick of looping hypotheticals. Annie smears her hands through her hair, combing everything back until her platinum-blond bangs fold over her head, leaving her entire face exposed.

 

She’s trying to practice what she and Armin preached, where nothing can be changed and that she should stay in the present to enjoy her prison mates’ company. But she lies awake at night still, pondering why Armin keeps by her side, could easily renounce her and return back to the surface with his friends. He has nine good years left and isolating himself with her here is tarnishing his image. His closest friends must think differently of him as Jean and Connie stare oddly at their old friend, but each time they come down to provide supplies, the two mask their confusion better each time until Annie can barely spot the uncertainty bunching their lips or brows.

 

Jean still glares at her and sees Marco’s half-chomped corpse; Connie’s stare is conflicted, seeing a person who saved his life but her origins and hometown’s actions has ripped someone so beloved from him. Everyone is quiet but saying so much, and meanwhile, Armin _smiles_ throughout this nightmare. He greets and talks pleasantly to all through all the uncertainty, acting like he’s some kind of adhesive keeping everyone stuck together, even when they’re all so horrifically broken.

 

Now he’s looking at _rocks_ and is smiling so brilliantly and dumb, because everything he’s doing _is_ so _dumb._

 

Annie’s strong arms and shoulders spasm, drawing Armin’s attention. She’s as silent as the grave but circles in the water below ripple and grow from small to large beyond her drawn up legs. Concerned blue notices water is not dripping from her hair and finds her upper half is fairly dry.

 

“Hey,” Warm water splashes a little louder when he snakes an arm around Annie’s waist and leads her back to settle against his chest. “You know I’ve got you, right? I always did and that isn’t going to stop now. Not for any of you.” Worried fingers pet along the damp, bleached-blond river flowing down her pale neck. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t make that clear enough. I always felt that if I so much as hinted I liked anyone, it could be used against me. Mikasa and Eren were already tied into so much, for _you_ to be added into that too...”

 

A weak jab from an elbow digs into Armin’s ribs. “Stop being the cliché ‘being stupid while being so smart’.” Annie scolds weakly after a sniff. “You’re not the one that should be apologizing.”

 

“Well, I did it anyway. Don’t _you_ give _me_ motivation to keep being a cliché.”

 

Annie _laughs_ ; it’s a pitch so genuinely light and high—permeates the air like a gleeful little girl’s, he dare says—that Armin’s body vibrates with giddy delight from the sound. The young man reels his fine catch in with a boyish grin, rubbing his cheek on the peak of the back of her head. He strokes once shackled wrists with his thumbs.

 

Calm hearts beating in tandem tattoo Armin’s chest and Annie’s back. They’ve been stuck in a hole where there’s nothing to smell but dust, grime, and the occasional scent of sex, but Armin maintains the lightest scent of flowery honey. It’s a pleasant to the nose aroma so unlike the after-taste of blood and self-bitten flesh she’s so used to. Once more, Annie is subjected to another pleasant change in her life.

 

Armin’s closed eyes wiggle open, detecting the lightest quake in Annie’s fingers as they fan out and back in along his forearms.

 

“Armin,” The tense woman’s voice had grown soft. “You know I’m yours, right? Everything I am, everything I have left...it’s yours.” The water lightly slapping against the tub’s wood borders is the only sound for a second. “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure that out. Of course, even when things are so slow and I have more time to think, _that’s_ what I figure out dead last, what I’ve been feeling all this time. And I…” Annie’s breath snags in her throat, her voice becoming broken. “I still can hardly say it. I don’t know _why_ it’s so hard. _God,_ you must think I’m _so_...”

 

The smoothness of Armin’s face sliding down the right side of hers cuts Annie off. Damp sideburns rest over her ear, his barrier of arms closing tighter on her shaking ones.

 

“I love you too, Annie.” He affectionately murmurs over her shoulder.

 

Annie’s hiccup comes out like a strangled squeak. She’s _so tired_ and the last of the cracked supports in the dam around her heart finally bursts completely. Annie curls into herself so low, the bottom of her chin grazes Armin’s forearms from every sob shaking her shoulders. Every quivering inhale is like breathing stabbing shrapnel—always full of loneliness and regret—then is washed away by a cough or gasp for breath. She’s never cried so openly or had it feel so relieving before.

 

She swallows when careful fingers slide up her throat, shudders when her wet hair is put to the side and a line of feather-light pecks travels along her nape. She rises until her shoulder blades greet Armin’s chest, her jaw led around and up by his hand until his lips capture hers. Her neck is sapped of strength from a silky touch so sweetly guiding and loving. She tilts her head back and has it kept level by Armin’s hand, moving slow, roving kisses into each other all the while. They linger there for so long, Annie’s neck soon begins to strain. She parts, twirls around in the water to change position and shoots up from her curled knees, capturing him in an impassioned kiss again.

 

The relaxed man leans back against wood, picking her up in the water to straddle him as long, chaste kisses move their jaws up and down, side to side. Their intimate parts are close again and the temptress in Annie’s head whispers her chance to take charge is here, but she sweeps the thought away; she doesn’t want this moment tainted by petty lust. They seep their love into each other here—her hands tangled in his wet, flattened hair, the sensation of water and his fingers massaging circles into her lower back tickling her.

 

There’s no more desperation, fear of losing each other, or uncertainty. It’s only them and now.

 

They part with the tamest clap of lips. Annie peers into a strong chest and Armin’s focused on the top of her bowed head. It’s only when calloused, wet hands cup her face, his thumbs swiping her cheeks when Annie notices she has never stopped crying.

 

“Come on, Love.” His mouth moves against her forehead. A kiss from him there leaves behind a warm, soothing brand after his lips depart. “The water is getting cold. I’ll get dinner started and you can tell me more about that Morse Code and typewriter stuff.” The young man who smiles so soothingly leads Annie’s face to look into his. “That sounds interesting.”

 

The clouds in crystal-sky fade, letting an electric blue settle in. “Sure.” Annie agrees with a smile—the ever so light lift of lips which says so much with so little.

 

The two eat and they talk and fill each other in on whatever else they don’t know about their worlds and themselves. It’s the first time either Annie or Armin felt like a normal couple, only talking and lounging, enlightening one another on what they do or do not know for hours which they can’t recall losing so fast.

 

That night under the furs, when the thrilling urge bites into them again, Annie lets Armin take charge. Her heels dig into his lower back, his hands squeeze the ones he holds on the side of Annie’s head, and the critters hidden about in the cave know with every creak made inside the shabby building, different noises follow.

 

What the vermin don’t know is every creak is also followed by a woman’s sobbing confession into a heavy sideburn ear, all the sounds reciting over and over again,

 

“I love you.” _Creak “_ I love you.” _Creak “_ I love you...”

 

* * *

 

Annie wakes up first. A forearm not entangled around Armin’s neck scrubs at her eyes. Gradually, the rare feeling of being fully rested is sinking in but a badgering mental itch has pried her from sleep.

 

She unhooks Armin’s warm hold around her waist and slips out of bed, donning clothes still two sizes too big with the improved form of her hoodie tugged on after. Careful to not make too much noise, Annie quietly moves about the barracks, grabbing what she feels she needs to find. The flimsy door gives a light groan when she opens and carefully closes it before walking toward the small lake.

 

Once she reaches the shore, Annie crouches. She lights one of the candles she found with a match before placing the waxy body in the center of a mining hat. The helmet bobs side to side when she places it in the water, the push she applies slowly moving the cap forward through the lake. Rings of orange and yellow candlelight ripple against blue-puckered cavern walls as Annie stands up.

 

It’s for all who have and are about to die who Annie pays this homage to, a goodbye to the guilt who has had one last chance to debilitatingly fester and haunt the shadowy chasms of her mind. There is a new light to keep her spirits up and out of the mental mud and though there are times the flame will flicker and wither, she knows the fire will never die out in her.

 

A phantom grip then clutches Annie’s chest with a drowner’s desperation. Shrinking pupils and a flash of body-shaking cold sweat tell her one thing: the guilt is a part of her and it will not give up easily.

 

The grey cave walls around her bubble and shift, moving slimy-slow and viscous as magma. Once deep wall grooves melt and cones of rock twirl, all blending into a face whose smile’s edges spiral two times over the other, sporting sharply-fierce stalactite teeth and eyes a deep, vibrant blue as the raw stone. Cracking sounds of rock breaking and the face’s jaw unhinging grates against Annie’s nerves as a carnivorous mandible opens as high and as wide as a snakes. Blue stones flow and twirl along their grey river, sucked into the demonized maw of her Titan, and with each passing stone being swallowed, Annie sees flashes—faces of the dead, her hands red, limbs sliced, blood pluming, drooling teeth, and the dropped cane of her father.

 

More pollution from the past oozes in a slow creep over her mind, shakes Annie’s breathing, drawing her closer to hyperventilating.

 

Her left hand is squeezed fiercely and reality halts the river’s flow of innocent souls. Annie spins her head to the side, seeing Armin dressed and standing next to her. His eyes are edged with concern.

 

 “I came to ask what you wanted for breakfast but you look like you’re caught up in something else.” He says, blue gems searching hers.

 

Pink lips parting, Annie returns her eyes over the water. Her setting of yellow-orange candlelight halos blipping across still, blue-blotted walls has been returned to her.

 

“For a bit I was, yes.” She responds with a bit of a tremor. “But it’s over now.” Ocean depths are skeptical but Annie helps the suspicion flee by clenching Armin’s hand reassuringly. “I just wanted to pay tribute to everything. For everyone caught in between and who are about to be. It sounds stupid and won’t help anything but...I felt the need to anyway.”

 

Armin swirls his thumb against the side of her hand. “It’s not stupid. I should really join in on that too, actually. Especially now that...” A lump rises in his throat then is swallowed. “I forgot to tell you. Mikasa gave us her answer.”

 

A moment passes. “And?” She asks with soft interest.

 

“She wants to be the one that does it.”

 

It’s not _very_ unexpected but leaves Annie baffled nonetheless. Eren has fallen so out of grace—a different man with a different ambition and path which she can no longer respect—and Annie’s heart collapses in on itself for both Armin and Mikasa.

 

“Do you think she can?”

 

“Mikasa knows what needs to be done. But that doesn’t mean it won’t…” Armin holds in his breath then sighs. “I have to make sure I’m there for her when it happens, and afterward too. Killing Eren... if she succeeds, I know she’ll be wishing for our curse. I can’t have her think like that. We have to remember him as he once was and what he tried to keep being—our friend.”

 

Bitterness and rigid rivalry toward Mikasa doesn’t swirl as potently in Annie’s chest anymore. She can easily put herself in the Ackerman’s shoes—was in them five years ago—and she’s thankful she was too conflicted to let Armin join in on the trail of bodies she left behind.

 

But Mikasa may not be so lucky and knowing so spurs a wrench to clamp and twist Annie’s heart.

 

“What must be done has to be done no matter what.” Annie calmly recites with closed lids. “I’m sure Mikasa will do what she swears to and so will we. We’ll at least have some kind of chance with all of us together.”

 

Armin peers down at her, catching how her first sentence sounds similar to a prayer or mantra to be repeated. She hasn’t yet told him that quote from her father—has filled him in on only bits of him, much to her dismay. She’ll need to change that.

 

The candle fizzes out in the middle of the lake when the clomp of booted feet becomes louder and unsettles the loose gravel within the nearby path.

 

“Armin!” Jean‘s voice echoes through the tunnel. Panting, he enters into their cavern’s open space. The creases on his face show his distress. “We’ve got enemies inbound!”

 

The whites of the couple’s eyes enlarge as Mikasa follows behind Jean, her face only a fraction calmer. “It’s a small group with no major artillery but it’s unmistakably a Marleyian scouting party. I’ve spotted only a few rifles on them, but the weather is obscuring everything else. At least that means visibility will be low for them too.”

 

Jean slams a vengeful fist into his hand. “They’re ripe for the picking. We’ll bait them into the forest, use it to our advantage to grab them, and get the fuckers to talk. Hell, it looks like we’ll get some disguises off of them too.”

 

Focused brown fall on the couple’s closed hands. There’s a slight pause before a face-splitting sneer cracks the goateed man’s face. “Good, you’ve caught the bitch before she has a chance to run away.” He acknowledges mockingly. “Now hurry up and drag your bratty woman up here, Armin. It’s time for her to prove herself.”

 

The couple’s focus follows Jean’s back as he hikes back up the rocky path. He’s accepted them somewhat, in his own horribly rude way. Mikasa looks to them then jerks her head up toward the exit, nonverbally saying she’ll take action alongside them. Annie and Armin run to get into clothes making them battle-ready and once they exit the barracks, their hands now clamp thumb over thumb, holding tight and as determined as brothers of war.

 

They sprint up the rocky passage to the bitter-cold surface until all six of them stand as a line of equals along the layer of snow. The band of soldiers then sprint forward through the winter storm, leaving harsher doubts of each other in the snow tracks behind them and with friends at his side and Annie tight in his grip, Armin hopes comrades both new and old will erupt from hiding just like they have.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *flops over* Okay, I’m ready to be torn to bits by the story’s actual ending now. ;___;
> 
> What was an excuse for smut turned into a project I thoroughly enjoyed writing (and plagued my mind I legit did not get over 4 hours of sleep over the break because this kept biting at my head)
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I loved writing it. :) These two are such a lovely couple and deserve more love.
> 
> I have ideas for side-stories with this universe (some fluff some explicit), but I’m not sure if I’ll publish them as standalones or just stick em in here as bonuses...I dunno LOL. I guess you’ll see.
> 
> [Sum nice moosic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rr8GurL8W_4&start_radio=1&list=RDrr8GurL8W_4)


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